HerOutlandishStranger (11 page)

The grin had vanished from her face. Eliza took a deep
breath. “I digress. Though I think it will make you understand how disastrous
my loss of virtue was for the people who loved me.”

She stood near him again, her gown slightly hitched up, and
he resisted the urge to wrap his hand around her ankle.

“My uncle had spoken of us to one of his fellow club
members, Brian Archer. Brian needed a wealthy wife and set out on the hunt for
me. He knew I was tired of balls, and so he took me on early-morning rides in
the park. He was all that is charming, pleasant and I was completely taken in.
I wrote rapturous letters to Papa.”

“My father, who even then was arranging his departure for
Spain, posted at once to London to meet ‘my Mr. Archer’.

“Papa suspected Brian was not all pleasing manners and
delightful conversation and he tried to tell me his suspicions. But I had never
been warned about fortune hunters—there was never any real need, you see—so I
thought my father warned me only because he did not like my suitor. Uncle Simon
had heard no harm of Mr. Archer, I pointed out. I thought if Brian was good
enough for Uncle, he should be good enough for Papa. I conveniently forgot that
Uncle Simon is a better judge of horseflesh than his fellow man.”

Eliza plucked at the lace on her sleeve until a bit tore
off. She rolled it between her fingers as she stared at the flames. “Brian must
have known my father took him in dislike, but I suppose he thought that he
could cozen my uncle well enough to make his fortune. And so Brian convinced me
that our only hope was for me to run away with him. The plan was for us to
travel to his aunt and remain with her until my father would agree to allow us
to marry. I did not want to hurt my father so I refused to go to Gretna Green
for a Scottish elopement. Somehow I thought this plan of fleeing to his aunt
was less…drastic and hurtful.”

Jazz heard the pain in her voice. He rubbed his hands on his
knees and spoke briskly, “Well. That doesn’t sound like a bad plan to me.”

She arched her brows and tossed the ripped lace into the
fire. “No, I never planned my disgrace. But as you shall hear, I took part in
it, Jas.”

So much for comforting her. He wished he’d kept his mouth
shut.

She turned away from him and continued. “We stopped at an
inn. I remember it was a pleasant little place and we were simply to rest for a
few hours. I was growing more remorseful and distressed with each passing hour,
and I suppose Brian had detected my flagging spirits. And so he ordered a room
and took me upstairs. With his honeyed words and his—no, no that is not fair. I
said I take my full share of blame. I allowed him to make love to me.”

She rubbed her face and for the first time, looked around
and into Jazz’s eyes. “It was a hot day and Brian never enjoyed bathing. You
would not have liked him, I imagine.”

“Stench sounds like the least of the jerk’s problems,” Jazz
growled. He had to ask. “Did you enjoy…um, making love?”

Her full mouth twitched into a brief smile. “I found him
attractive and had treasured his kisses, but he didn’t kiss me very much then.
Oh, it wasn’t terrible. Brian was finished within a few minutes and I remember
thinking that even though I hadn’t precisely enjoyed the act, his clear
fulfillment was enough for me. I had given the man I loved a precious gift and
would derive my pleasure from that.”

Jazz couldn’t help muttering an obscenity and Eliza sighed
and nodded.

“Yes, sad isn’t it, that I had the reputation as the
sensible sister? Poor, sweet Jane was the sentimental girl in the family and I
was called the more prudent one. In truth I was a silly creature, filled to the
brim with romantic folly.”

“You were young, Liza. Young people are
supposed
to
be romantic. Huy, even my people know that.”

But she didn’t appear to hear him. “Brian dressed and went
downstairs, he said to bespeak our tea. He was gone a long while. It grew quite
late. I wondered if some accident had befallen Brian, but the inn was a busy,
noisy place and I did not like to leave the room. I had been a sheltered
creature and even in the country never ventured abroad alone. I didn’t have the
bravery necessary to go downstairs in a strange place alone. ”

He couldn’t hold back his guffaw and she smiled, this time
with amusement. “Yes, I am no longer that creature, am I?”

“No, you are much stronger now, aren’t you?”

Her eyes widened and she smiled. “You are very kind, Jas.
Thank you.”

“Welcome.” Jazz waved a hand. “I know you’re not done. Go
on. Tell the rest, Liza. I think it’s good to get it out.”
Says the
hypocritical Mr. White
.

“After a long, long time, hours, perhaps, I gathered my
courage and tiptoed down the stairs. The public rooms were filled with local
men drinking and playing at dice and cards. Brian was there, merry as the rest.
He had an ale in one hand and his other hand around a barmaid’s waist.
‘Sweetings, once I’m shackled to the darling moneybag upstairs’, he was telling
her, ‘Perhaps I’ll renew our friendship.

“Lord.” She sighed. “No matter how much I wish I could
forget those exact words, I never shall be able to. They showed me everything I
hadn’t wanted to see. At the time, I was frantically angry but managed to
overcome my desire to tell him what I thought of him.”

“I wish you hadn’t,” said Jazz. “I bet when you let rip it’s
a good show. And then at least the locals would know what a jerk the man was.”

She looked at him, a puzzled frown on her face. “They would
only have known what a wanton I was. No, though I dearly wanted to face the
cad, I thought it best to sneak through the kitchen to freedom. Unfortunately
Brian was just visiting the convenient at that moment and saw me.”

She dropped into silence.

“Eh, you can’t stop now. What did he do?”

She tossed a few sticks and a pebble into the fire and
scowled at the flames. “He overcame me, then dragged me back up the stairs. He
pushed me into the room and locked the door. Later he had food sent up to me as
well as a note informing me that we were to stay at the inn the whole night to
ensure the need for our marriage. With no reputation, he assumed I’d be forced
to marry him. The note was rather long, actually. He gave me his solemn promise
he would be a good and generous husband and I need not fear him, unless I went
against his will in important matters.”

“No,” Jazz interrupted. “Eliza, tell me you didn’t let him
back into the room.”

“I suppose he spent the night with the barmaid. I did not
know and did not care. In the very early morning light, I noticed that a
trellised vine reached up near my window. I opened the window and managed to
climb down the trellis. Then I ran in my stocking feet as if a whole pack of wolves
were at my heels. But there was no need to rush from the scene for the whole
tawdry event had already caused harm.

“I recall thinking the incident was the greatest of
tragedies any mortal girl could endure. I sat through what felt like endless
confrontations, though I could barely keep myself from writhing in shame as my
uncle raved and my aunt cried at me. I felt far worse when I saw my father
regarded me sadly from across the room but didn’t say a word.”

She stood and walked in a tight, restless circle. When a
twig cracked under her boot, she swooped down on the pieces and threw them,
hard, at the flames. Then she came back to crouch next to Jazz, though she kept
her gaze fixed on the fire.

“Now I see the whole was nothing more than a sordid—no,
farcical—event. But on that day I thought my life was over. My Season in London
certainly was at an end. For a short while I considered marrying Brian.”

Jazz gaped up at her. “No. No way. You could never have
married that cretin.”

She shrugged. “After all, he did try to mollify me with his
note. And I dearly wished to cause my family as little harm as possible.”

Jazz suddenly put out a hand to silence her. He jumped
silently to his feet. A rustle in the thicket alerted him. Someone was nearby.

He pulled his dirk from his boot and motioned Eliza to stay
still. He stalked toward the sound. A shadow rippled over a tree and he froze.

Not Steele. The phrase Liza had used occasionally came to
mind.
Thank God.

A small rust-colored deer moved through the underbrush. It
paused to sniff the air.

The knife didn’t fly from Jazz’s hand. They could have used
the meat, but he only stood and watched the wild animal, a ghost of the forest.
He stared after the roe deer until it vanished into heart of the wood.

Another rustle of leaves and Eliza stood next to him. “Thank
you for not killing it,” she whispered. “It is so lovely, isn’t it?”

The ache in her voice swept through him.

When he turned and saw her smile, he pulled her into his
arms and held her again.

They walked back to the fire. It burned too high from all
the wood she’d tossed on it. The smoke rose high and would draw the attention
of anyone passing on the road several hundred yards away. They would have to
abandon it soon.

“Eliza. Is that the end of your story about Brian Archer?”

Her voice was rough. “No. I lost my sister because of him.
But I don’t want to talk about that. Not now.” She touched her belly and went
pale. He thought she was going to faint and stood to catch her. But she backed
away from him and wailed. “Oh Jas. Oh, no. This is so much more. I’m tired of
this misery and now I’m going to have a baby.”

Chapter Eight

Eliza tried to swallow the panic, but it rose and she could
not stop the words tumbling out. She clutched him as if he could keep her from
drowning in fear. “But what can I do? What can I do? I must try to rid myself
of it. Perhaps I can find a family who will take it. I can’t go back unwed and
pregnant with the babe of some deranged stranger. I survived disgrace once,
though my family did not. I am not brave enough, Jas. I cannot!”

With her head pressed to him just below his throat, she
could feel Jas swallow, but he didn’t move or speak. At last the fear and
self-pity finished flooding her and an actual plan came to mind.

She calmed her jagged breath. She dropped her arms from her
fierce clutch around him and moved back to search his face. When she gazed into
his stern face, she fancied that he was forcing himself not to look away from
her, but still, she could not stop herself from speaking.

“Listen. Please. I-I suppose my uncle will control my dowry.
Whoever marries me will not gain a vast fortune, but I believe it is a
respectable two thousand pounds. Would you marry me? Would that be enough to
tempt you?”

She interrupted herself before he could reply. ”No, oh no. I
am wrong to ask it of you. You are no fortune hunter. I know you said you
cannot marry me and I believe you. Forgive me. You have been so good, so kind
to me. I cannot expect you to take on any more of my problems.”

“Your problems are mine,” he said in a low voice. “It’s
true. I can’t marry you. But other than marriage, whatever you want from me, I
will do. I won’t leave until I know you are safe and happy.”

She frowned and haltingly asked, “Are you promised to
another? Is that why you cannot marry?”

He shook his head.

Eliza bit back her next question. How could a man drop out
of nowhere with no connections? She had once wondered if he was some kind of
criminal. She could not believe that of him. Had he been banished from his
country for some reason? He was not likely to tell her. And he had just made it
clear she had no right to ask.

They stood in awkward silence, no longer clinging, yet still
touching one another, her hands on his shoulders, his at her waist.

“Eliza,” he said softly. “We must go before the fire
attracts visitors.”

Silently they stamped out the fire before they moved on.

For the first mile or so, they plodded in silence. Yet as
they walked, she became aware that the air held the scent of spring and the sun
held real heat. For the first time in weeks, despite her losses, and her
knowledge of her new burden, Eliza’s heart lifted.

Perhaps she was as demented as she occasionally thought Jas.
Instead of constantly mortifying her, and causing a deep sense of shame, the
thought of her pregnancy every now and again filled her to the quick with an
odd, tilting joy. She explored the possibility her life in Spain had destroyed
every trace of refinement in her nature.

Could any woman of her station possibly react with anything
other than fear and loathing for her circumstance? Naturally the answer was a
resounding no, but she still felt secret joy. She even managed to comfort
herself when she was filled with horror about the rapist who’d fathered the
child. She calmed herself by recalling the dark-haired man’s gentleness—he
could not be a good or honorable person, but he was not an animal. She prayed.
Another jolt of fear hit her, but when it vanished, she was left again with the
strange new calm.

Jas, on the other hand, looked as desolate as she’d ever
seen him. His expression seemed so somber she wondered what he could be
thinking.

She hoped his seeming acceptance of her situation was
genuine and that he wasn’t truly offended by the revelation that she was
breeding. She could not bring herself to ask such a question outright, but she
had to know if he would abandon her because of the pregnancy.

When they stopped to rest, she ate her brown square, then
turned around to tug at his sleeve. He stopped chewing and turned to look down
at her. The tender warmth she saw in his smile relieved her worries, so she
could speak lightly. “Forgive my impertinence and do not feel that you must
share the pain you appear to carry, but please… Tell me a thing or two about
yourself, Mr. White. You leave me without a morsel of comfort.”

He raised his gilded eyebrows. “What on earth are you
talking about, Eliza?”

“Come, sir. At least tell me you sucked your thumb at an
advanced age, or you made an attempt to climb the church steeple and were
caught by the sexton. Please, I have told you of my most desperate follies. Can
you not take pity on my embarrassed notion that I have betrayed my worst
moments to a man who seems entirely too perfect? Can you not betray at least a
hint of your own failings? Faults other than continuously playing with a bit of
wood, I mean.”

He laughed as she hoped he would.

Jas shoved the rest of his food into his mouth. Then he
stood and shook out the cloak they’d been sitting on. “I promise to spill some
of my imperfect guts as we go. Fair enough?”

Jazz gripped her hand and pulled Eliza to her feet. He’d
stall for time as he wondered what more he could tell her about himself.

Rule number one for the DHUy—reveal nothing in a past time
that was not already documented in that time. During his training Jazz had
asked what happened when a DHUy broke that number-one rule.

He’d gotten an amazed look from the trainer. “That’s a
ludicrous question. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

To make certain, the trainer had made a thorough search. “No
DHU agent ever has,” he had concluded with relieved satisfaction.

Already Jazz had broken that first commandment dozens of
times, probably starting with the moment he told Eliza his name and continuing
from there with his simple nattering about his family. And the story of Madame
Blanro. Why in the world had he told her about that?

He cheered up by reminding himself that at least lately he
wasn’t showing that peculiar behavior of constantly “playing with a bit of
wood”. He’d grown out of the habit of consulting the CR as often. He’d simply
stopped thinking of it as a kind of companion.

As he gathered their belongings together and slung them over
his shoulder, he watched his real companion, Eliza. She wiped the dust from her
hands and tried to peer over her shoulder to see if she had a patch of dirt on
the back of her skirt. He grinned. Who in the world would care if more grime
covered already filthy clothes? Eliza the well-bred lady was a constant source
of amusement to him.

They strolled now in the early-spring day and Jazz picked up
a few pebbles and tossed them at trees as he searched his memory for a story
that would entertain her. Chunks of his life had been erased from his memory,
but he could fetch back scenes of early childhood.

“This might be embarrassing enough to satisfy you. When I
was about three, maybe four years old, I got into my mother’s medical
equipment. Anyway, I found some kind of ointment and smeared it all over
myself. Eh, I mean head to foot. Hair too. The stuff turned me bright blue. The
color didn’t wear off for weeks. People laughed everywhere I went.”

”Yes, that story will do,” Eliza said promptly, her face lit
with delight. “Was your mother very angry?”

“I don’t remember but I recall she said the color suited me
because it matched my eyes,” he recalled with a chuckle.

Liza gave a lugubrious sigh. “Ah, such a pity the color wore
off. I should have liked to have seen you blue like the blue Celtic warriors.
They used wode, which also means mad, you know. You’re mad.” She burst into
laughter. “But your story reminds me about the time I also was turned a very
different color. Don’t dare remark about matching my eyes, though, Mr. White.”

“Go on,” Jazz urged.

“One day, when I was perhaps six, my sister and I managed to
escape our very strict governess. We were determined to go riding. And we
decided that the only animal that we could manage to control was our neighbor’s
plow horse, an ancient creature.”

Her eyes glowed warm with amusement. “I sat on the poor
horse’s back. The animal was very high and very broad, I recall. Jane pulled
and pulled with all her strength at the rope around its neck. At last the horse
must have grown bored by such pests. He pulled away from Jane and lay down for
a roll to get rid of me.”

Now Eliza laughed so hard, Jazz had trouble understanding
her. “I-I jumped off in time to save myself from injury but I landed in an
unfortunate spot in the pasture. Oh, I was covered in manure. We ran home as
fast as we could. Jane poured buckets of freezing water over my head and we
scrubbed at my hair, my dress, my shoes, my stockings. Ugh. It was everywhere.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“Indeed. Our neighbor the farmer had been leaning on a fence
and watching the whole thing. He told our father that very evening. The two men
had a hearty laugh about it, but our governess was mortified. She scolded us
for days, I recall.”

Jazz shook his head. “A fine story, Liza. But since you seem
to keep score, I bet you will now demand I fork over another embarrassing
episode from my past.”

“Perhaps,” she said thoughtfully. “Yes. Indeed, I believe
that is fair.”

“I thought so, but I am sorry. I have no intention of
digging up any more of my most absurd moments for your amusement, young woman.
I can barely stand to think of ’em myself, much less confess them to anyone
else.”

She stopped walking to look at him, a wide smile on her
face. “Ah Jas,” she said, “I do not know why I feel the need to confess my
worst moments to you. Perhaps I have been too long without a friend or
companion and that is why you must hear these stories.”

“A friend,” he repeated. “No, nothing you could tell me
would be a burden, just because we are friends. It is wonderful, isn’t it?
Friendship, I mean.”

She again laughed. “Ah, now there is a profound statement.”

He even enjoyed her mockery. “You don’t like my sage
observations, eh, Miss Wickman? Let me hear your words of wisdom about friends
then.”

“My aunt once told me that a friend is a person who knows
you well, but likes you nonetheless,” Eliza said pertly.

Just like that Jazz’s joy dissolved. He knew her, very well.
But she didn’t truly know a thing about him, did she?

He shook off the too-familiar spasm of chagrin. No point in
ruining Eliza’s happy frame of mind because he felt guilty chattering with her.
She had sprung back from her first frightening reaction to the knowledge of her
pregnancy. Don’t smash the mood, he thought.

“Clever woman,” he said, and forced himself to smile again.
“Do you have many what-are-they-called,
bon mots
like that to keep me in
my place, eh? I think I want to go back to learning nursery rhymes.”

When he saw the shared amusement in her eyes, he had to
quench his usual desire to hold her, but in addition now he wanted to tell her
everything. He wished he could bare all of his secrets. A stupid, dangerous instinct
almost as difficult to suppress as his animal craving for her.