Nightingale (19 page)

John’s voice lowered a third. “I would kill him if he did. I might go so mad as to kill you, too, before I got meself under control.”

“What if he offered to pay for the privilege, John, more than the hundred he already promised for my care and company? What would you say then?”

Lout rubbed his chin and his eyes narrowed. “I’m a reasonable man, Jess. Has he offered money for the favor?”

“No. He hasn’t.”

“Will he, do you think?”

She shrugged; disheartened that even John could draw the correct conclusion. “No.” She looked toward the coach. “I need to return before anyone realizes I am gone.”

But their private tête-à-tête had been discovered. In spite of his size, Bear moved through the underbrush with the stealth of a cat.

When his mother returned without Jessica, Devlin sent Bear for their missing member.

Bear grudgingly did as he was bidden, tracking back the way the duchess had returned.

He heard rustling and the girl’s startled yelp when Lout grabbed her. Bear listen, placated by the fact that she did not sound alarmed.

Staying to the cover of the trees, Bear crept close to hear their conversation.

“Does the old duke know we are betrothed?” Lout said, stalking her as she began walking back toward the road.

Bear studied her face and decided the man spoke the truth about their impending nuptials. At the same time, he was curious. Jessica’s expression was not that of a bride gazing upon her beloved.

“If that’s the case, I’d better take you meself now,” Lout said. He lunged, but she sidestepped agilely, staying well beyond his grasp.

“It’s likely you shall have me, John, but not before the appointed day, after the words have joined us as man and wife. You agreed.”

“All that prevents us now is the speaking a’ the words?”

“I intend to have say over my own body until the vicar’s words join us.”

Lout tramped close, a determined look in his eyes.

The girl might not realize her peril. Bear saw the man’s intentions. He thought of his orders not to intervene unless she was threatened. Did the order anticipate protecting her from her own beloved?

Lout raised an arm.

No longer ambivalent about his sworn duty, Bear lunged, grabbing a fallen log.

Jessica stood boldly. Lout was nearly on top of her when she squatted and covered her head with both arms.

As the length of dead wood from Bear’s hand broke over his head, John went limp. His massive body folded over itself with a whoosh.

Hearing the unexpected thud, Jessica peered from between her fingers to see the huge man crumple. She saw Bear and her terror spiked. She shrank again.

“Don’t be scared, milady. I’m here to serve you.” Bear held out his open hands. “It’s me. Bear.” He spoke softly, as if to mollify her and, at the same time, keep a watchful eye on Lout. The downed man groaned and began to stir.

“I recognize you, Bear.”

“I thought ye might be too scared to know it was me, Miss. Come, then, let’s be leaving.”

“No. You must go, and quickly, before he rouses.”

“How will you explain the lump on his head?”

“I will tell him a branch fell out of the tree. I will tend him sweetly, soothe his wound and gentle him with my caring ministrations, while you run for your life.”

Bear swelled to his full, height, over six foot three, and flexed a massive arm. “I do not run from fights, Miss, for sure not from a scuffle with no two-footed creature.”

“For my sake, then.” She knelt and began stroking Lout’s brow as he groaned. He raised thick, searching fingers to his head only to encounter Jessica’s delicate hand.

He mumbled without opening his eyes. “Am I dead?”

Jessica bit both lips to stifle a laugh. “No, but you were no match for the tree.”

“What happened?” His eyelashes fluttered. Jessica raised a pleading look to Bear.

“You have felled many trees in the woods, John. I suppose it was only a matter of time before one took revenge.”

There was a slight rustling of underbrush as Bear slipped into the thicket, where the sounds of movement stopped. Jessica knew he had not gone far.

“What does an injury to me have to do with you, Jess?” John groaned.

Seeing the bully humbled, she felt a stir of tenderness. “I do not wish any man ill, especially you who will be my husband, make my living, provide for my table, warm me on cold winter nights in our bed.”

His eyes rolled as he tried to focus, his face contorted with a silly look of tender disbelief.

“No, John, I do not wish to see you injured.”

His tender look became alarm. “Did you hear something?” Squinting but obviously unable to see clearly, he pointed to the place where Bear had disappeared.

“The wind, John. Come now; let’s see if you can stand.”

“Nay, not yet.”

She started to rise, but he caught her wrist in his great paw. She smiled. “I’ll fetch water to wash your face and help you come fully awake.”

A giddy smile bowed his lips.

Jessica glanced toward the woods as she scurried to fetch a jug from the carriage. Perhaps she could see Bear’s form in the underbrush, but maybe not, camouflaged as he was by the trees. Then a hand appeared, floating, and waved.

She flapped a hand back, as if shooing an insect, in case John saw her and wondered.

• • •

Because of the distance and the size of their party, Devlin knew his entourage would not reach the city in one day. He had arranged for accommodations at the Greymont Inn, a relatively clean place, respectable, host to many of the gentry when they spent a night on the road.

As the ladies freshened themselves and prepared to sup in the tavern below stairs, Bear led the duke to the stable, beyond the hearing of others, to report Jessica’s meeting with Lout.

“When they spoke of their agreement, did you take it to mean they were referring to their betrothal?” Devlin asked.

“I’m not certain, Your Grace.”

“Was she terrified of him?”

“Not so much terrified, as not altogether pleased.”

“Perhaps she was startled by his sudden appearance.”

“That may be, mixed with annoyance. Her concern rose as they spoke, eying each other like two warriors about to do battle.”

Devlin rubbed his chin briskly. “There was no tenderness or affection between them?”

“None.” Bear added. “Well, none until I dropped him.”

“You say she attended him when he was injured?”

“Yes.”

“Of course she did.” Devlin mumbled, as if speaking to himself. “That is what she does. Attends the lost and hurting.”

Bear felt ashamed that he might have drawn Jessica and Lout closer, which might have been a good thing, under other circumstances. Obviously that consequence did not please Devlin, however, and what did not please His Grace, did not please Bear.

• • •

In his youth, Devlin had not shown good taste in his choice of women. Bear had, on more than one occasion, worried that some temptress would fool the lad with her wiles, but that had not happened.

This one — this Jessica — was different. She slipped into Devlin’s heart as she had into almost every other heart in the household.

At first, Bear did not trust her for allowing the sightless Devlin to believe her a young girl rather than a lass of marriageable age. She did not behave like a girl in search of a husband.

Bear was better satisfied with her behavior when he saw her with the horses, the kittens in the barn, her exuberance with the hounds that showed none of their usual mistrust of strangers. He liked her exchanges with the household staff as well. She treated them as equals, in spite of her preferred status, yet she did not let the officious ones take advantage of her.

Mostly, however, he liked how she was with Devlin, respectful, watchful, not overly sympathetic, pushing him but not expecting more of him than he could manage.

He also liked that she didn’t sidle close or rub against the duke, as many a lass had done, even when he had his sight, to draw his attention.

There was quality, character and conduct worthy of respect in this Jessica Blair. When Devlin asked Bear to keep an eye on her, he accepted the charge with more than a little curiosity of his own.

• • •

In the tavern below stairs for supper, the duke dismissed his concerns as he and his mother and Jessica finished their meal. He ordered extra glasses of a surprisingly good wine, which, the keep boasted, he made himself.

Noisy new arrivals shouted and shoved benches that scraped and toppled thunderously, disrupting the cozy atmosphere. Devlin did not want to show his annoyance, particularly when he felt Jessica, on his left, stiffen as the rowdies fairly took over the establishment.

Devlin placed a steadying hand on the back of her neck and put his mouth close to her ear. “Do not be alarmed, Nightingale. They are just off the road. There is no cause for concern.”

“I am sure you are correct, Your Grace.”

She remained stiffly alert and Devlin was prompted to ask, “What is causing you such discomfort, darling?”

“Nothing, Your Grace. I am just being silly.”

“Are you overly fatigued?”

She insisted she was fine, shushed him, and fell silent as his mother continued her running account of who was who in London society, but where Jessica had asked questions and expressed genuine interest earlier, she grew tense and did not speak.

“Jessica, are you tired?” the duchess asked finally.

“What? Oh, yes, Your Grace. The excitement of the day and the long ride has finally caught up with me. I am embarrassed that you and the duke are able to outlast me.”

Lady Anne laughed lightly. “We have had years of conditioning. In town, people often welcome the dawn before seeking their beds.”

“How does one endure it?”

“We sleep away the morning, a practice foreign to you. Just as well. I doubt it is one that will be available to any of us tomorrow. In keeping with country hours, I suppose we should be up the stairs and to bed.”

Instead of listening to his companions, Devlin had tuned his sensitive hearing to private conversations, particularly to the last noisy group, for their talk seemed to be about the nobleman and his ladies. He didn’t like the men observing his party so closely.

Then the deepest, most graveled voice overcame the others as all conversation in the room fell to whispering.

Devlin knew his concerns probably were unwarranted. Still, he would feel better having his charges upstairs and bolted. He would put both ladies in one room and assign Bear to the door. Also, he decided to tell Ned, a sturdy, well-trusted footman, to mind the back of the tavern, the area between the inn and the stable, as another precaution.

“Jessica,” Devlin said quietly as she guided him up the stairs, his hand, as usual, on her shoulder, “would you mind very much quartering with my mother tonight?”

Her exhale sounded like relief. “Certainly, Your Grace.”

No questions? How extremely unlike her, but she had been behaving strangely since the band of men entered the tavern. Perhaps they had expressed unwelcome interest, had cast lurid looks her way, and she had been uncertain about how to spurn their attention. He didn’t bother asking. She would no doubt deny her nervousness in an effort to allay his concerns.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Devlin sent Ned to tell the innkeeper to set either a second bed or a pallet in the dowager’s room, then to summon Bear from the stable where the men had settled for the night.

When Bear arrived, the duke heard him riffle a hand of playing cards. “Bear, will you bring your blankets and sleep in front of my mother’s door tonight?”

“Do you believe the dowager is in danger?”

“I don’t know, but something is amiss. I don’t want to take any chances. I might hear an intruder’s approach, I might not be able to prevent any … unpleasantness.”

“I will see to it, Your Grace.” Bear had retreated several paces when he spoke over his shoulder. “I’ll get my things and be right back.”

“Thank you. I am grateful, particularly as you were otherwise pleasantly occupied.”

Bear riffled his cards again with a thumbnail. “Not so pleasantly as ye might believe. I was bluffing. By now the buggers ’ave figured it out. They can manage fine without my blunt. I expect this little interruption may provide protection for my purse as well as your mum.”

Devlin smiled and Bear chuckled. No one eavesdropping would have heard their earlier conversation or would have suspected they were having any but a light discussion.

• • •

Bear slept sitting up, his back propped against the door to the ladies’ room, his pistol loaded, his thumb on the hammer. The way his hat dipped over his face, a person could not tell if he were awake or asleep.

The dowager and Jessica prepared for bed, laughing and talking like schoolgirls.

“Jessica, I want to give you something.” The duchess rummaged in her satchel and produced a cameo often worn by unmarried girls from wealthy families. It hung from a delicate gold chain. “This was mine when I was a girl. I would like for you to have it.”

“Oh, Your Grace, it is lovely, but I seldom wear jewelry. I could not accept such an exquisite necklace.”

“Posh. I planned to give it to my daughter, but God saw fit to bless me with sons.”

“Then you must save it for a future daughter-in-law or a granddaughter.”

“Look closely, my dear. The face on it is yours. The resemblance is amazing. Since the likeness is you, the piece must be yours. I hope you will wear it always.”

The duchess indicated Jessica should turn. She fastened the delicate chain around the girl’s swanlike neck.

“It’s a little long,” the duchess said.

“Which means it will hang concealed where it will not be scratched or broken … or envied.”

The duchess caught Jessica’s shoulders and turned her around. Tears in the older woman’s eyes silenced further objections or mention of Jessica’s return to Maxwell Manor.

• • •

As Bear prepared the duke’s coach for travel the next morning, Devlin again heard the graveled voice he recognized as the leader of the noisy bunch from the tavern the night before. Fatigue — or perhaps worry — prevented the duke’s usual morning glimpses of light.