“I beg your pardon?”
“Mr. Finchley of the notorious Fleet Street firm of Fothergill and Finchley. Damnation, Jenny. Was there no greater villain you could have employed?”
She scowled. “I’ll thank you to stop addressing him in those terms. He’s been nothing but helpful to me since we left London. I count him a friend.”
“A friend?” Giles didn’t look convinced.
“A dear friend.”
“At the very least, I trust he’s kept you safe from other nefarious types you might have encountered.”
“He has.”
“And what about from himself?”
“I’ve nothing to fear from Tom Finchley.”
“Tom.”
Indignation rose in her breast. “I don’t know what you think you’re implying.”
“If you were my sister—”
“I’m not your sister, thank heaven. And you have no room to criticize any gentleman when you yourself treated me in the most disrespectful manner when you were last home on leave.”
Giles flushed. “As to that—”
“Judging from your letter of apology, I assume you believed I was pining away of love for you. Either that or waiting for you to come home from the wars and marry me.” She lifted her chin. “For your information, my lord, your kiss was not at all the sort to make a female weak at the knees. If it was an example of your best efforts, your future wife has my profound sympathies.”
Giles gave a sudden laugh. “Good God, did I kiss you that day in the library? I’m amazed I survived the experience.”
“It’s no laughing matter. For a time, I thought that—if you were alive—it might have been that very incident that kept you from coming home.”
His expression sobered. “Were it as simple as that.”
Jenny took his arm as he slowly turned to walk back to the bungalow. Despite her irritation with the man, she still felt a profound sense of relief to have found him.
Now all that was left was to get him home.
“We’ll sort everything out,” she promised. “There’s no problem so complicated it can’t be solved given a bit of feminine ingenuity.”
Time moved slowly on Senchal Ridge. That’s what Giles had told her. And he’d been right. The next three days passed at a glacial pace. Jenny could sense Tom becoming restless. She didn’t wonder. It must take an enormous amount of energy to exhibit the forbearance he’d shown since their arrival. He never rose to Giles’s bait. Never spoke sharply to him or put him in his place, even when he most deserved it.
Jenny knew why. Despite the reputation Tom had cultivated for being in possession of a rather ruthless legal brain, he was, at his heart, a compassionate man. She esteemed him all the more for it.
On their fourth day in residence at the tea estate, she found him alone on the verandah watching the sun rise over the mountains. She came to stand at his side, her shawl wrapped firmly around herself against the morning chill.
They hadn’t breakfasted yet. Giles had yet to emerge from his room and Hossein was in the kitchen with Ahmad and Mira preparing she knew not what. It was the first moment she’d had alone with Tom since their arrival. She didn’t wish to squander it.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” she asked.
He looked at her, smiling slightly. “Good morning. Did you just wake up?”
She touched a self-conscious hand to her hastily pinned tresses. “Do I look as if I did?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the way you look.” Tom dropped a glance at his own attire. “Would that I could say the same about myself.” He was clad in trousers, a plain waistcoat, and loose-fitting linen shirt. His sleeves were rolled unevenly, exposing leanly muscled forearms. “I thought myself quite alone at this hour, else I would have finished dressing.”
“You’re dressed well enough for my purposes.” She extended her hand to him. “Come, let’s be off. If we leave now, we might avoid the others.”
His hand engulfed hers. “To where?”
“To anywhere, so long as I get you to myself.”
“Ah, well. When you put it that way, how I can I refuse?”
They walked down from the verandah, turning left at the steps instead of proceeding down the road. A narrow, well-trodden path took them past more abandoned tea fields and out along the edge of the encroaching forest where conifers of all sizes stretched up to the endless sky.
And they talked. They talked of the wonder of finding Giles. Of the beauty of the ridge. And of the deep pleasure to be had in resting so comfortably after a journey in which they’d rarely stayed in one place for more than two or three days.
Jenny leapt atop a low boulder, one hand still clutched warmly in Tom’s, as she gazed up at the snow-covered peaks. A breath of fresh mountain air filled her lungs. “Is it any wonder they send injured soldiers to the hill stations to recover their health?”
“Do you feel healthier?”
“I wouldn’t say healthier. But I do appreciate the cooler weather. Giles says that many of the residents in Calcutta and Delhi remove to the hills in April and May.”
“I’m amazed he never encountered anyone who recognized him.”
“Oh, he doesn’t associate with the Europeans anymore. Indeed, Mrs. Plank would accuse him of having gone native.”
“Anyone who met him would know different.”
She glanced down at him. “What do you mean?”
“Only that he’s retained a fair measure of his aristocratic superiority. There’s nothing of the humble native about him, however isolated he may choose to live.”
“Which is understandable, really. One can’t have been born into such a family and forget it. He’s the Earl of Castleton to his core, whether he cares to admit it or not. It isn’t something he can shed like an ill-fitting suit of clothes.”
Tom’s hand tightened on hers as she hopped down from the stone. “Has he shown any willingness to go back?”
“There’s willingness. It’s the how and when I’m having difficulty pinning him down on.” She slid her arm through his. “If only you could persuade him—”
“That’s never going to happen, Jenny.”
“I don’t see why not.”
He gave her a look.
“Yes, I know, he’s been absolutely beastly toward you.” She strolled along at his side as they advanced farther into the woods. “If it’s any consolation, he hasn’t been much more civil to me.”
“He’s shown himself quite solicitous of you when we’re all in company together.”
“Yes, in public, Giles has always been a gentleman. It’s in private when he reveals how little he thinks of me and my opinions.”
“And that,” Tom said, “is something I’d be willing to have words with him about.”
She laughed. “Don’t dare. I can fight my own battles.”
“You shouldn’t have to. Not while I’m here.”
“Yes, I must take full advantage of you while I have you. Speaking of which…” She tugged at his arm. “I want to show you something. It’s just around the corner, if memory serves me. I’ve gotten to know these paths rather well in the last several days and—”
“Undoubtedly. You’ve spent hours walking them with Giles.”
Jenny’s steps flagged. She thought she detected a sharp edge to his words, but wasn’t certain. “You might have joined us if you and Giles didn’t have so much bad blood between you.”
“I’ve no bad blood with the man. It’s his own view of solicitors that makes it impossible for us to be in company together. If he didn’t take things so personally—”
“Was any of it true? Any of those things he accused you of on the day we arrived at the ridge?”
Tom’s face shuttered. He looked away from her. “You know I can’t speak about my cases.”
&nb
sp; “Not even here, on the other side of the world? Not even with me?”
“It’s not a matter of where or to whom. It’s simply not done. I’d be breaking one of the foremost rules of my profession.”
“Giles said you ruined the Earl of Warren’s life. That you drove his son to suicide.”
Tom stopped in the center of the path. Her hand fell from his arm as he turned to face her. “The Earl of Warren’s son was an opium addict. Whether his death was deliberate or the end result of his addiction is a matter of some dispute. Certainly I had nothing to do with it.”
“You didn’t do something to affect his inheritance?”
He didn’t respond.
Jenny’s stomach tightened with apprehension. She had the sense that she should change the subject. That she should cease talking about Giles or giving voice to any of Giles’s absurd accusations. But she’d already said too much. There was no point in stopping now. “He said that you boxed Warren in as if he were an animal. That everywhere he turned…there you were. That you destroyed the man’s business ventures. Got him ejected from his clubs. That you even exposed his mistress to Lady Warren.”
A muscle spasmed in Tom’s jaw. “So, this is what you and Giles have been talking about during all of your walks about the grounds. Not about him and how he needs to return to England, but about me and what a ruthless monster I am.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Is it absurd? Because it sounds to me as if you’re asking me just how much of a villain I am.”
“I’m doing nothing of the sort. I haven’t any need to. I already know you aren’t the calculating figure Giles has made you out to be.”
“And yet, I did all of the things he accused me of. I exerted pressure on Warren in every possible way. I didn’t care how it affected him or his family. My only concern was gaining his capitulation.”
“On behalf of your client.”
“It was hardly on my own behalf. I didn’t know who the Earl of Warren was before this case began. I had nothing personal against the man. It’s never been personal. Not with any of them.”
Jenny remembered what Tom had told her on the train to Cairo about his clients being dishonorable men. How he’d become disenchanted with representing them. And how he hoped that, one day, worthy clients—like Ahmad and Mr. and Mrs. Jarrow’s son—would replace the unworthy ones entirely.
She came a little closer to him. “At Dover, you said this land dispute case of yours had been going on for eleven years.”
“A bit longer, in fact. Fothergill would say that I cut my legal teeth on the Earl of Warren. Perhaps I was overzealous initially, but I—” He broke off with a grimace. “I had a great deal to prove.”
“I daresay you proved it. The case is settled now, isn’t it?”
“For the moment.”
“And your client? The Viscount Atwater?”
“Really, Jenny. I can say no more on the subject. Except…”
“What?”
“Except to assure you that I’m no villain. I’m merely a man with a bit of talent for his job.”
Jenny choked on a laugh. “A bit of talent? I know nothing about the law, Tom, but even I recognize you must be possessed of more than that.” She sought his hand. “In any case, I know you’re not a villain.”
“You sound very sure of yourself.”
“I am,” she said. “I could never care for a villain the way I care for you.”
His fingers curled around hers. “Well, then.”
“Well, then.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “If we’re quite done arguing—”
“We haven’t been arguing.”
“So you claim.” She took several steps backward on the path, coaxing him along with her. “Talking about what a monster you are, indeed,” she chided. “Really, Tom. Do you want to know what Giles and I talk about when we’re alone? We talk about him. About Helena. About his uncle. And, very occasionally, he stoops to lecture me on my conduct—specifically as it relates to you.”
Tom’s brow lowered. “He has no reason to do so. From the moment we set foot in his house, we’ve been avoiding each other like the plague.”
“How well I know it.” The path curved on ahead of them. She dropped Tom’s hand, stepping off of it and crossing the grass, still wet with morning dew. “Through here,” she said.
Tom followed after her, ducking through a gap in the trees. On the other side was a clearing of sorts. Small and surrounded on all sides by dense, curving oak trees, maples, and pines. He looked around. “What is this?”
“It’s privacy, is what it is. Absolute, unequivocal, privacy.”
His eyes found hers. “Ah. I see.”
Warmth crept into her cheeks. She backed another few steps into the clearing. “I’m tired of us avoiding each other.”
He advanced upon her slowly. “It has been rather wearing, hasn’t it?”
“I’ve found it so.” Jenny’s heartbeat quickened as he came to a stop in front of her. “So many times, I’ve wanted…”
He gazed down at her. “What have you wanted?”
“To do this.” She curved a hand around his neck. There was no cravat to impede her. His skin was bare and warm beneath her fingers. With a gentle pressure, she urged him down to her at the same time she stood up on the toes of her half boots, reaching to meet his lips.
Tom bent his head, his eyes closing as she kissed him. For several seconds, he let her take the lead, and then, with a low groan, his arms closed around her and he kissed her back, so fiercely it took Jenny’s breath away.
Her fingers slid into his hair, clenching there as his mouth moved on hers. He was holding her so tightly, pressing her against him from shoulders to knees. She couldn’t tell if the hammering she felt in her chest was his heart or her own. They were that close. That fundamentally connected. It seemed, for those precious moments, that they shared everything; their pulse and heat and breath. The thought of parting was an agony.
But kisses couldn’t go on forever.
Eventually, his lips drifted from hers, pressing gentle kisses to her cheek and temple. Conciliatory kisses. Sweet, masculine apologies for putting an end to something that had shaken her so deliciously in heart and limb.
“We don’t have to stop,” she whispered.
“I do,” he said. “I must.”
“Why?”
“Because if I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to stop at all. And then where will we be?”
She knew he was right. Nevertheless…
Her lips grazed the curve of his ear.
“Jenny,” he growled.
“This mountain air has made me wonderfully reckless. I feel as if I could devour you.” It was probably the most nonsensical thing she’d ever said in her life, but when she nipped at his earlobe, the sound he made low in his throat sent a frisson of such excitement through her that she knew it didn’t matter. “Kiss me back, Tom. Kiss me back.”
He did.
And he did.
Until his spectacles were discarded and her shawl was cast off over a nearby boulder. Until his hair was wildly disheveled and her own was half falling from its pins. Until she was nothing more than a mass of melted treacle in his arms, weak at the knees and clinging to his neck and to his lips.
Until he broke away from her at last, setting himself as far apart from her as he had that night on the Valetta.
Jenny’s legs trembled beneath her. She sank down onto the boulder on which her shawl was draped, staring up at Tom in stunned silence.
He raked both hands through his hair, turning away from her on a muttered word.
“What’s that about a chaperone?” she asked, still breathless.
“Having one here might have helped.”
She waited for him to turn around, but he made no move to do so. Without seei
ng his face, she couldn’t fathom whether or not he was irritated with her or angry or—even worse—simply embarrassed by her boldness. “Tom, are you—”
“I’m quite all right. I’m just going to stand here for a moment. If you wouldn’t mind—”
“Shall I—”
“—staying where you are.”
“Oh.” The word came out on a disappointed breath. She folded her hands in her lap and waited. After a full thirty seconds of silence, she lost patience and began to re-pin her hair. She had a vague recollection of Tom spearing his fingers through it as he kissed her. Of tugging at her locks in the most demanding way. “I suppose I must apologize for being so brazen.”
He gave her a wry glance. “Why? I clearly didn’t mind it.”
“You look as if you do now.”
“I’m trying to regain some semblance of mastery over myself. To remind myself of all the reasons I shouldn’t do what I very much want to do.”
“Is it working?”
“Not as well as I’d wish.” He finally turned and came back to her, crossing the clearing to sink down beside her on the boulder. Her skirts bunched against his legs. “You said you felt as if you could devour me.”
A blush threatened. “I don’t know what I—”
“I do. It’s precisely how I feel about you. About the sweetness you offer every time you kiss me. When there’s a lack of something in your life, you want it all the more. It’s never enough to have a taste of it. You want to consume it whole.”
“No one has ever accused me of being sweet before.”
“Perhaps you haven’t shown that side of yourself to anyone else the way you have to me?”
“Perhaps not.” Until Tom, no man had ever inspired such feelings in her. She couldn’t imagine any man ever would again. It was a depressing thought, especially since she knew their time together was quickly running out.
He took her hand very gently in his, cradling it with a tenderness at odds with the fierceness of the kisses they’d shared only moments before. “A few months ago, this would have been enough. Sitting beside you and holding your hand. In London, I’d have given anything for the privilege.”
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