He turned back to climb the stairs, and a woman who was never at a loss for words could not think of anything to say to stop him.
Nick set out on a solitary walk around the manicured wilderness near the house. Grey skies matched his mood but he took measured firm steps to outpace it. Stomping around the snow-covered gardens, he wrestled with his anxiety.
“I should be relieved. So much for any pressure to impress her,” he spoke his thoughts aloud, purging them as his stroll turned into more of a march. “She’s intended for one of the others so what am I doing? Growling about because I…wish otherwise? Shall I wish to be another man? A man who can walk up to her in a crowded room and say, ‘Good afternoon, Lady Jane. You are looking lovely, Lady Jane. May I confess that when you stumbled into my room it was the most singular moment of my life and I wish—”
“Lord Athmore?”
Jane stepped out from the curve of the path, as if his imagination had conjured her into being.
Did she hear me talking to myself?
She’d so completely caught him off guard that he couldn’t even nod or grunt in response, his cheeks reddening and his jaw clenched in abject misery.
The decoy is about to crumble.
Oh, God, please. Hit me with lightning. Now is good.
He waited helplessly for her to walk away, to withdraw from the quiet agony in his eyes, but instead Jane surprised him and held out a gloved hand.
Nick took it numbly, shocked that she would do such a thing but more shocked that he’d reached out and accepted her hand. Her grip tightened gently on his fingers and she guided him toward an oak tree near the path.
“Lord Athmore, I have an idea.”
“An idea?” His mind was reeling.
“Here. Stand here.” She guided him to the tree and when he stood where she asked, she instantly released his hand and stepped away. He watched in bemused wonder as she smiled mischievously and walked to the other side of the great wide trunk out of sight. He bent over to peer at her but she waved him back.
“Pretend I’m not here. You stand there, with your back to this oak. Try to imagine that you are rooted with it and I shall stand here on the other side, out of sight. Then, when you are almost sure that you are alone again and when you are ready, you may say whatever you wish.”
“Will I—be alone?”
Jane smiled. “I cannot think of a woman using air who would forfeit an opportunity to eavesdrop with sanction! Are you mad? I shall freeze to death before I surrender an answer.”
Nick looked up at the wintry sky and marveled that his life could suddenly feel so enriched. “Should we risk your life for this experiment?”
“I am as safe as churches.”
“Not if I fail to think of a single thing to say and you end up freezing to death after all.”
“I’m not afraid,” she said.
“I am,” Nick whispered. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it just as she’d instructed him. The silence that spun out wasn’t painful but instead began to feel comforting. “I’ve never talked to a tree before.”
“Tell the tree what you would most like to say to me.”
She was very quiet to encourage him, but he could hear her breathing.
Nick smiled and then finally the words came. “I’m not a fool. I can’t tell how frustrating it is to know my mind, to know that when I am home and with the people who are closest to me, I’m so comfortable. I feel whole and strong. It’s so easy to talk. Why does that ability abandon me when I need it most?”
The wind sighed in sympathy—or was it Jane? Either way, he felt encouraged.
“I have no hope of charming you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be glib or clever in a room full of watching eyes. I don’t care what Sanders says. I understand that ladies like poetry. I wish I were the kind of man who could quote poetry without breaking out in a cold sweat.”
She gasped. “Not all ladies like poetry.”
“Lady Jane.”
“Yes?” she spoke again, completely abandoning her own rules with a candid innocence that cheered him immensely.
He pressed his palms against the solid tree’s bark. “How is it that you are so kind? I put you in a trunk at our first meeting and I was an embarrassment at dinner last night. Are you just being charitable, Jane?”
“No!” The indignation was unmistakable in her voice but the sound of her foot stamping the ground made him smile again. “Are you?”
“Pardon?”
“You are not the only one with social…hindrances. You heard them at dinner. Lemon pastries and—if there is a wretched mess to be made, I seem to be in it. The stories make for very amusing conversation and I don’t blame people for savoring the retelling. Perhaps you’d heard the tales and have reasons of your own to be kind to me.”
He gave up the game immediately and circled around the oak to face her, concern overriding everything else. “I would never laugh at you like that.”
Jane’s expression sobered. “Don’t be so sure. I once got locked in a linen closet at a ball by accident. It was ridiculous but I may have been trying to avoid a…dance with a man who had so much hair growing from his ears and his nostrils that I…feared a rodent infestation.”
Nick fought not to smile. “Oh, my.”
“I didn’t want to hurt his feelings so I said I had a headache and tried to hide. But once the door closed, I knew I was in terrible trouble. I was too embarrassed to yell for help. Then when I worried that I’d lost track of time and began to knock, no one came. No one heard me calling out. I gave up. By the time the servants found me, it was nearly dawn. Can you imagine my mother’s horror? She ended my first season early out of fear that I’d be questioned too closely. I’d lost my chaperones and disappeared, last seen on the arm of a man…”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Not even Pru or Winnie know the truth,” she said softly, her eyes filling with tears. “They all think my failed social seasons have to do with clumsy accidents but I’ve never told anyone what happened that night.”
He caught her hands with his, warming her gloved fingers by wrapping them with his, unsure of what to say.
“What is a dropped tray or a spilled drink compared to…” Jane sighed. “Ruin.”
“You are not ruined. Not then and not now.”
“So I keep telling myself,” she said as the tears trailed down her cheeks. “I should s-stop going through doors without looking first.”
He shook his head, stepping closer to pull her into his arms, her face tipping back up to him, an innocent offering he didn’t want to resist. Words failed but he didn’t need them now.
He kissed her. He kissed her and discovered that touching the warm silk of her lips and tasting her soft mouth exceeded every dream he’d had, every hope. The gentle contact quickly shifted into a storm of sensations and delicious heat that branded him to the marrow. Possessive fire made him press her against him and Jane responded with soft moans that betrayed her pleasure.
Her hands reached up to touch his face, the cool of her gloves only making the contrast of the growing warmth between them more magical.
The innocence of a first kiss yielded to desire and it took Nick’s breath away. It shook him how potent and impossible his need for her became and he forced himself to release her, worried of frightening her—of inflicting the ruin she feared.
“Jane…”
She blinked, a woman recovering her reason. “Oh! That was…”
“Jane,” he tried again. “I am very glad that you go through doors, Jane. I am very glad you came through mine.”
“As am I,” she whispered.
“Jane? Is that you there?” a male voice called out.
Nick released her instantly, both of them taking a guilty step away from each other as Jane became as pale as the frost on the leaves.
Stephen came through the trees, his stride a bit uneven as he tried to mind his boots in the muddy leaves. “Oh, Lord Athmore! Fancy finding both of you
here.”
“Yes.” Nick took a deep breath to try to steady his nerves. If her brother saw us, he could have me thrown from the house or—
“Your sister was…also walking and I…”
Stephen smiled. “Several of us are outside to take advantage of the day, so I knew Jane might have been rounding up stragglers at Mother’s request. She’s hoping to talk us into an afternoon of games. I’m glad Jane found you first, probably to warn you off.”
“A lucky break,” Nick said as evenly as he could.
Jane smoothed the front of her coat. “Well, I’ll circle back around the grounds to see if anyone else is seeking an afternoon’s entertainment. Good afternoon, Lord Athmore.”
She left them by the tree and Stephen clapped Nick on the shoulder, a good-natured gesture of male bonding. “Don’t worry, Nick. I won’t betray that we found you. You can escape the nonsense of parlor games unscathed. Hell, I would if I had the chance but there’s no possibility of my mother believing I’ve come down with something.”
“No? Are you…so healthy?”
Stephen laughed. “More of an inability to lie to the force of nature that is my mother.”
“Lady Weston does seem…formidable.”
“Don’t let anyone say you aren’t a wise man, Athmore.” Stephen stepped back, adjusting his scarf against the cold. “I’ll see you inside.”
Nick nodded and headed back to the house alone.
He made his way to his bedroom to consider his options. No one expected him downstairs during the afternoon. Apparently the guests along with his hostess had all accepted that the poor Earl of Athmore was not one for company…
Everyone but Jane.
She didn’t seem to know that her mother was arranging a match and that Nick had been included only as a kind gesture. Alone with her, his guard had dropped and when she’d opened up to him and shared the painful truth of her first season, every barrier between them fell.
I kissed her.
I can’t believe I was so bold but I can’t manage to feel even the tiniest echo of regret for doing it. God, that kiss…
Jane…
Is it possible to be in love?
So quickly?
It was one thing to hope for a match, for a chance, and lose the vague opportunity for happiness but now it’s all so tangible. It is Jane. Jane who completes me and transforms me.
He thought of Trent’s public declaration at the dinner table and shuddered. She’d jested that not all women liked poetry, but there were hurdles to courtship for someone like him.
But nothing insurmountable.
I should write her poetry. It will her make her smile.
Win her heart with whatever means I have.
He glanced around the room and spotted that the trunk he’d hidden her in was still at the foot of his bed. He knew it had been emptied of his clothes but it made him smile to see it. He lifted the lid, amazed that she’d fit in its confines only to freeze as the glitter of jewels caught his eye.
Nick knelt down and retrieved a silver-filigreed hair comb with cut lavender gemstones sparkling in the light. It was a beautiful piece and he had a vague memory of it gleaming atop dark gold curls.
Jane’s.
Scandal was her greatest fear and being in possession of such an intimate object gave him pause. He had to return it but he had to find a way to do so without exposing their unorthodox first meeting—or causing the ruin she dreaded. They’d had such a narrow escape when Stephen had walked up after he’d kissed her, and if he were caught with her comb—
The door opened and Nick guiltily pocketed the piece to hide it. He couldn’t show it to Sanders or involve any of the servants of Rivercrest. The story was too salacious not to spread and he couldn’t think of any lies that would explain how he’d come to have it. Even if he claimed to have found it in a hallway or on the floor, he wasn’t sure how it would play out. He didn’t want Jane to be blamed or to feel embarrassed in any way.
“Are you changing to head downstairs?” Sanders asked. “There’s some kind of sport planned in the library.”
“No,” Nick said and moved to the table where his personal stationary and traveling desk had been placed. He opened it and with his back to Sanders, quickly slid the comb inside. “I don’t want to lose any ground trying to play word games.”
“You can’t hide forever, your lordship.”
“I’m not hiding. I’m taking a strategic respite.”
God, that has the ring of truth. I don’t even want a sanctuary anymore. Jane changed me. I don’t need to hide or cower.
I just need Jane.
“How was your walk in the garden?” Sanders asked as he relieved him of his coat.
“I survived,” Nick allowed, unwilling to speak of his fragile hold on happiness.
“Bit of a commotion from what I heard downstairs at the dinner last night. Footman said there was a surprise guest and an engagement all in one go!” Sanders said cheerfully. “All in one go! Truly?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a thing you don’t see everyday.”
“No.”
“Well, I apologize for the trunk. I should have taken it to be stowed after we arrived for—”
“No. Leave it. I still…haven’t decided how long I can manage.”
“As you wish.”
“It’s not in the way at the foot of the bed.” Nick took a seat at the desk. “Let the staff know I’ll not be going down for dinner tonight. I’ll take my meal here and retire early.”
Sanders’ look was puzzled. “But—are you sure?”
Nick smiled. “I’m sure. Sometimes a man just needs the quiet.”
Jane came in, answering her mother’s summons to have a few quiet moments before dinner. For the second time in two days, she would face her mother and run the potential gauntlet of parental disapproval.
Lady Weston was at her vanity table in her dressing gown, her fingertips pressed against her temples. “I do not have the ill-bred impertinence to indulge in a headache and take to my bed when there are guests under my roof, but Jane…I confess that after tonight’s dinner, the temptation will not be without its appeal.”
“I’m sorry, Mother.”
Last night, Stephen noticed that there was something between Lord Athmore and I. Mother must have seen the same but I don’t know if I can lie well enough to convince her that there isn’t anything afoot after that kiss. Thank God Stephen didn’t see us together or—
“I asked Irene to retrieve the amethyst hair comb from your maid. The one I was so generous to loan to you? Jane? Did you lose your great-grandmother’s prized hair comb?”
“I-I may have.” Jane was the embodiment of contrition. “I’ll find it! I shall retrace my steps and locate it. It must have…been dropped.”
Lady Weston stood, a general addressing an errant soldier. “Unless you are hanging from bannisters or climbing trees as you did as a child, I cannot see how a young woman of your upbringing can drop hair combs.”
Jane swallowed hard. She had not taken up acrobatics but she could not tell her mother the truth. “I should have secured it with pins.”
The anger lifted from her mother’s eyes. “It will turn up but—Jane, there is another matter that made me ask you to come to me.”
“Yes?”
“I am regretting pushing you so hard. I feel as if last night’s mishaps were my responsibility and after seeing you…after…”
“After I disappointed you again,” Jane finished for her.
“No.” Agatha reached for her hands, and looked directly into her eyes. “No, it’s not what you think. You think I’m upset about lemons and pudding and water glasses, but it is I who owe you an apology, Jane.”
Jane blinked in confusion. “An apology for what?”
“Your father always said that I worried when I could but never when I should. I interpreted his words to mean that I should be even more vigilant with my children and while Stephen defies a mother’s a
ttempts to hover, a daughter stands no chance.”
“I would never have you apologize for caring or worrying.”
“I never will but when I saw how compassionate you were toward poor Lord Athmore and how generous to defend him—I have never been more proud. Everyone was so dismissive of the unfortunate gentleman. Even I am guilty of doing the man a disservice but—”
“He is not unfortunate. He is merely shy and I was not being compassionate to him out of pity or charity. Please, Mother.”
It was Agatha’s turn to blink. “Of course. I only meant to say that you don’t need to settle and that there is no need to make a desperate match to please me. I am proud of you, Jane, and whatever comes, I am content to leave it to fate.”
“Oh!” It wasn’t so much a spoken response as an exhale of relief. Confessions of earth-shattering kisses in gardens could wait, and if her mother was willing to relax her agenda of a quietly vivacious showing, Jane was sure that happiness might be within her reach. “But you don’t trust to fate, do you?”
“No, I don’t but I’m willing to try. Now kiss your mother on the cheek and go get dressed for dinner please. Let’s put the day behind us and see what we can recover.”
Jane dutifully kissed her, smiling as she did so.
If today was any measure of days to come, I shall never ask for another favor from Providence—and take my lemons cheerfully.
Chapter Six
The following morning, Jane did her best to seem cheerful at the breakfast table but it was hopeless. She hadn’t seen Lord Athmore since he’d kissed her, and she hadn’t been able to ask after him for fear of raising too many questions.
“Are you unwell?” Pru asked sweetly.
“No. But I think I did not sleep well last night and should ask Irene for a tincture. If you’ll excuse me.”
She politely left the others to their meal, only to meet the man she had most longed to see on the stairs. They were miraculously alone.
“You didn’t come down for dinner last night,” she said quietly, praying that they would have a few minutes before the others finished eating.
A Very Matchmaker Christmas Page 21