For the Love of Lynette

by Jillian Eaton

  “Are they?”

  She glanced at her sister to see if she found the driver’s short, clipped answers to be as annoying as sharp nails on a chalkboard, but Delilah attention had been captured by a life-size porcelain farm duck carelessly wrapped in an old shawl.

  “Do you see it, Tempy? Do you see the duck?” she asked, her voice breathy with excitement.

  It was well known - at least amidst the Swan sisters - that Delilah’s favorite animal in all the world was a duck. She positively adored them and had been heartbroken when they’d been forced to give up their home in the country, leaving their pond - and the ducks that lived on it - behind.

  “Do you think we could buy it?” she whispered.

  “With what money?” Temperance whispered back.

  “Oh.” Delilah’s brow creased. “I forgot we haven’t any.”

  Something Temperance would very much like to forget as well. Unfortunately, her brain didn’t work in such a manner where she was able to pick and choose which things she would like to remember and which she’d rather forget.

  Delilah returned to lovingly staring at the porcelain duck, and Temperance bit back a sigh.

  I am sitting beside someone who is obsessed with water fowl and behind someone who is incapable of stringing more than four words together at a time.

  Splendid.

  At least their time in the carriage should be blessedly short, she reasoned as she crossed her arms and nestled herself between Delilah and the door. She knew they’d wandered a bit off the main path, but they couldn’t have been that far from home. In a few minutes, fifteen at the most, she and Delilah would be sipping hot tea in front of a toasty warm fire.

  Unless…

  “I say, do you know where you’re going?” A flicker of movement caught her eye, and with a gasp of startled surprise she met the driver’s narrowed gaze in a tiny, rectangular piece of glass he had - for reasons that baffled - attached to the ceiling directly in front of his face. “What - what is that?”

  “This?” He tapped the edge of the mirror, nudging it slightly to the left.

  “Do you answer every question with a question?”

  “I do not know.” The corners of his eyes squinted, suggesting he was smiling even though she couldn’t see his mouth. “Do I?”

  Oh, but he was infuriating! Perhaps the most infuriating man she’d ever met and that was saying quite a bit given all the foppish dandies she’d met during her debut. “What is the mirror for?”

  “You mean this mirror?” He tapped it again as Temperance growled her impatience. In the silvery reflection his blue eyes took on an amused gleam, and she bristled at the idea that he was gaining enjoyment from causing her frustration.

  Like a little boy pulling on a girl’s pigtails, she thought with annoyance.

  Well, little did he know this girl pulled back.

  “Obviously,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

  “I call it a look behind. It is my own invention.”

  A look behind? She’d never heard the like. “Yes, but what does it do?”

  “It is quite clear, isn’t it?” Delilah said, jumping into the conversation. “It does exactly what its name implies. It looks behind.”

  “Your friend is rather clever,” said the driver.

  “She is my sister, not my friend, and your invention is the most absurd thing I have ever heard of.” It wasn’t, of course. In fact it was rather ingenious. Not that she was about to admit as much out loud. “What purpose does it even serve?”

  The driver’s gaze shifted back to hers. Their eyes met, held, and even though a barrage of nonsensical items separated them from one another, the contact felt oddly...intimate.

  Uncomfortable, Temperance did something she never did: she looked away first. Glancing down at her skirts, she absently smoothed out a wrinkle - something else she never did - before she dared to peek up at the mirror again. This time the driver was staring at the road in front of him and she saw only the thick arch of his brows and a bit of his forehead. It was creased, although in concentration or consternation she couldn’t be sure. Had he felt the connection between them as she had?

  Nonsense, she scoffed. He did not feel anything because there is nothing to feel. You are beginning to think as Delilah does, which is to say quite battily.

  “It allows me to keep an eye on any suspicious characters who are stupid enough to throw themselves in front of a carriage in the pouring rain,” he said flatly.

  Temperance gasped. “Did you just infer I am stupid?”

  “I don’t believe I inferred anything. In fact, I think I was rather clear.”

  Oh!

  “It is not my fault you were not looking at where you were going,” she said between clenched teeth. “You should have been more observant.”

  “And you should know better than to step in front of a moving vehicle. If you were seriously injured I can assure you there would only be one of us to blame, and it would not be me.”

  Their eyes clashed again. His burned a cold, dark shade of ice while Temperance’s flickered with bold, bright fire. On her lap, her hands clenched into knotted fists.

  “You are the most wretched man I have ever met!”

  “And you are acting like a spoiled bitch.”

  “Oh dear,” Delilah murmured fretfully as her gaze darted rapidly between the driver and her sister. “Oh dear, dear, dear.”

  “Stop the carriage!” Temperance ordered. “We are getting out.”

  Delilah hesitantly touched her arm. “But it is still raining and we are only a few blocks from home.”

  “I don’t care! I wish to get out at once!” If she were merely angry with the driver she would have been able to sit and fume in silence for the duration of their ride, but what she was feeling wasn’t anger. Well, it was, but there was something else there too. A prickling of awareness she’d never experienced before. A sense of attraction she didn’t want, especially to someone like him! He was rude, and arrogant, and belligerent, and - and well she was so furious she couldn’t think of anything else, but she would. When she was back in her own bedroom she would think of an entire litany of words describing his awfulness!

  Mind made up, Temperance reached for the door handle, only to go flying sideways as the carriage jerked abruptly to the left. “What the devil-”

  “Do not open that door,” the driver said darkly.

  “Why ever not?” Righting herself with some difficulty, she crossed her arms and glared at him in the mirror. “Afraid I might injure myself?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I frankly could care less about your well-being, but my belongings are very valuable and I will not have them strewn across the street.”

  “Valuable?” she said scornfully. “Your carriage is filled with junk!”

  “I think the duck is rather nice,” Delilah said.

  “Thank you,” said the driver. “I found it in an old farmhouse in Connecticut.”

  “Really? Were there any other-”

  “Oh will you stop with the ducks?” Temperance hissed. “Can’t you see how rude he is?”

  Delilah frowned. “Actually, I think you are both being rude. I cannot understand quite why, but I suspect it has something to do with the way you are looking at one another.”

  “We are not looking at each other in any way.”

  “Yes you are,” she said very matter-of-factly.

  Since it was clear the driver was not going to stop to let them out and it was also clear Delilah had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, Temperance twisted her body to stare in tightlipped silence out the window at the passing buildings. As they neared their street the buildings became increasingly familiar until she recognized each one as they slowly rolled past it. “There,” she said, pressing her finger against the glass. “We live there.”

  The driver directed the carriage against the curb and drew back on the reins until the horse slowed to an obedient halt. Rain continued to fall from the cloudy
sky, although its intensity had lessened significantly and it struck the roof with the softest of drops.

  “Thank you very much,” Delilah all but sang, completely oblivious to the tension thickening the air inside of the cramped chaise. With one last, longing glance at the porcelain duck she started to open the door… only to abruptly pull it shut again.

  “What are you doing?” Temperance asked.

  “Asking a question.”

  “To whom?” she said suspiciously.

  “The driver, of course. Who else?”

  “Delilah–”

  “Excuse me!” her sister called out cheerfully.

  “Yes?” For the first time since he’d gotten into the carriage, the driver swiveled to look at them without use of the look behind.

  He’d taken his hat off, Temperance noted at once. Without it his hair fell in tousled waves of dark brown all the way to the nape of his neck and framed his countenance. He had a strong face, all hard lines and angles with a deep chin and slashing cheekbones. His brows were thick and set low over his eyes, giving the impression of a constant scowl.

  He was handsome, she supposed, in a very American way.

  “What is your name?” Delilah asked, all bright eyes and beaming smiles.

  Affecting a bored air, Temperance waited for the driver to refuse to answer her question, but to her surprise he responded after only the briefest of hesitations.

  “Hugh Jacobson.”

  Hugh Jacobson.

  It had a nice sound to it, Temperance thought begrudgingly. And it certainly suited his personality. Stark and severe, just like him. Not wanting to be caught staring, she looked away, focusing instead on a pair of matching lamps that had been stacked upon a leather trunk. Again she wondered what on earth he was doing with such a large assortment of unrelated items. Was he intending to sell them? Decorate a household? Set up a shop?

  “Mr. Jacobson, thank you for assisting us,” Delilah said grandly.

  “You are welcome.”

  “There,” Temperance whispered in her sister’s ear. “Are you satisfied? Can we go now?”

  “But we haven’t introduced ourselves.”

  “He doesn’t need to know-”

  “I am Delilah Swan, and this is my sister Temperance.”

  “Temperance?” Hugh repeated as his eyebrows lifted. “How...surprising.”

  “And why is that?” Temperance demanded. Truth be told, she wasn’t overly fond of her name. It was too long, for one thing - three entire syllables! - and it didn’t suit her personality at all. But that did not mean she was about to let anyone else insult it!

  “It is merely that in America, Temperance means moderation and self-control.” He scratched his jaw. “I suppose not all things translate.”

  “That is it,” Temperance decided. “Delilah, open the door. We are getting out.”

  “But I wanted to ask Mr. Jacobson about the - very well,” Delilah said meekly when she saw the flash of warning in her sister’s eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Jacobson.”

  “And you, Miss Delilah.”

  Temperance and Hugh stared at one another in silence as Delilah pushed open the door and hopped down. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to say anything, Temperance lifted her chin a notch and said - mostly because she couldn’t help herself and a little bit because she wanted to see what his reaction would be - “It was not nice to meet you, Mr. Jacobson.”

  “I can assure you the feeling is mutual.”

  Was it her imagination, or had his mouth curved in the faintest of grins? Brow furrowing, Temperance followed her sister out of the carriage and closed the door firmly behind her.

  “He was quite interesting, wasn’t he?” Delilah asked as they walked up the steps to the front door.

  “I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,” said Temperance with a sniff. Beating Delilah to the door, she swept inside before proceeding straight up to her room leaving a trail of wet footprints in her wake.

  Taking her time, Delilah slowly closed the door behind her. Just before it clicked into place she caught a glimpse of Mr. Jacobson’s chaise as it turned the bend. What an interesting man he had been and a perfect match for Temperance whether her proud, hot-headed sister was willing to admit it or not. Delilah may not have known much about the secret ties that bonded men and women, but she knew the sparks of attraction when she saw them. Even if they were cleverly disguised as sparks of annoyance and irritation.

  A tiny smile tugged at one corner of her mouth as she leaned thoughtfully against the heavy wooden door.

  This would not be the last time they saw Mr. Jacobson.

  She was willing to bet two ducks on it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The first thing Lynette noticed upon returning home – aside from the doorknob being more difficult to turn than usual – was the lack of noise. That, more than anything else, told her that her sisters were doing something they shouldn’t have been. Temperance and Delilah were many things, but quiet was not one of them.

  It wasn’t even on the list.

  After Lynette took off her cloak and hung it to dry, the second thing she noticed were two pairs of footprints leading from the foyer up the stairs. Two pairs of very wet, very muddy footprints.

  Why, she thought with a bewildered shake of her head as she tacked the footprints up the steps. The wood groaned and sagged beneath her slight weight as she climbed. Why do they do this to me? Why couldn’t they have simply stayed inside? Why couldn’t they listen?

  Because then they’re names would not be Temperance and Delilah.

  She found them in their bedroom. They both whirled around when she cleared her throat, and the guilt on Delilah’s face - guilt her older sister was able to quickly disguise - told Lynette everything she needed to know.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded.

  “Well…” Delilah began.

  “You are soaked to the skin!” Touching first Delilah’s arm and then Temperance’s, Lynette pointed at the door. “Downstairs, both of you. This very minute.”

  She would have directed them to her bedroom. As the master, it had the only fireplace on the second floor. Unfortunately, it had become blocked several months ago and she’d been unable to afford to have a chimney sweep out to clear it which meant the only fireplace at their disposal was the one in the parlor.

  Wise enough not to argue, Temperance and Delilah meekly followed Lynette down the stairs. Hurrying into the parlor, she made quick work of starting a fire with steel and flint before crossing to the windows and briskly closing each curtain, sending a wave of dust up into the air. Muffling a sneeze, she picked up a wicker basket from behind the sofa, dumped out its contents, and held it out. “Put your dresses in here.”

  Temperance eyed the basket in confusion. “You want us to take our clothes off? In the parlor?”

  “Indeed. Both of you are freezing and at risk for catching a chill. Go on then, all the way down to your stays and petticoats. No one will see you, the windows are all covered. Then sit in front of the fire and get warm.”

  Assisting with their buttons, she handed them each a blanket when they stepped - shivering, just as she’d suspected - out of their wet dresses.

  “Thank you,” said Delilah, taking one of two blankets Lynette had warmed in front of the fire and wrapping it around her body. Settling onto her haunches in front of the crackling flames, she unpinned her hair. It fell over her shoulders in damp waves, gleaming like fine spun gold in the shimmering firelight.

  Spraying water as she shook out her shorter brunette locks, Temperance took the second blanket and wrapped it around herself as it were a toga. “Much better,” she sighed. “I was afraid I might never feel warm again.”

  “Stay right here,” Lynette said. “I will boil some tea. And then,” she continued in a tone that brooked little nonsense, “you are going to tell me exactly where you have been and how it happened that you have come home in such a state.”

 
; Returning a short while later with a serving platter, she set it on the closest table to the hearth. Knowing precisely how Temperance and Delilah took their tea, she added two lumps of sugar into one and a dollop of cream into the other. “Here you are. Careful, it is quite hot.”

  Gratefully accepting the cup with the sugar, Temperance blew across the top before taking a sip. “Perfect.”

  “I am glad it is to your liking.” Pulling up a chair, Lynette sat beside Delilah. “Now tell me where you have been.” Noting the quick glance her two sisters exchanged, she narrowed her eyes. “Now.”

  “I told you she was going to be angry,” Delilah muttered under her breath.

  “Nonsense,” Temperance said cheerfully. “How can she be angry at us when she is guilty of the same exact thing?” Meeting Lynette’s slitted gaze, she grinned from ear to ear. “Where have you been, sister dear? Delilah and I simply went for a walk through Hyde Park and got caught in a bit of rain. But we have not seen you since yesterday morning.”

  “That’s true,” Delilah chirped. Perching an elbow on Lynette’s thigh, she sat up on her heels. “Where have you been, Nettie?”

  “Well I… That is to say I…” Have absolutely no idea what to say. Lynette had been so focused on her sister’s whereabouts she hadn’t given a single thought as to how she would explain her own. She knew she had to tell about the engagement, but she didn’t have the faintest idea of how to do it.

  How could she tell them the truth when she still hardly believed it herself?

  She was going to marry Nathaniel Blackbourne, the very man she’d reviled beyond reason for the past three years. Or at least the man she’d thought she hated. It was still a bit confusing, to be honest. Confusing and exhilarating and frightening all at the same time.

  To think that it had been Adam all those months ago who had lured her out the gardens. Adam who had turned her head with pretty words and empty promises. Adam who had ruined her reputation. And now it was Nathaniel, his identical twin, who would soon be her husband. Nathaniel who would save her family from financial ruin. Nathaniel who would help repair her good name. Nathaniel who made her heart skip and her pulse race…