The Highwayman (20 page)

“Well,” Jane said wryly, “I cannot say that it would be a great loss. And now that we have Mr. Davies, we should be able to hire someone more competent.”

“Yes,” agreed Agatha.

Before Jane could wonder too much at the lack of conviction in Agatha’s voice, Alice said, “I am surprised you did not know about Elsie and her footman. It is common knowledge in the neighbourhood.” Then, with a sly glance at Agatha, she added, “It seems that there is a great deal of romance in the air of late.”

For everyone but me, mused Jane as she studied Agatha thoughtfully. For some time, the suspicion had been growing in her mind that Agatha might be developing a
tendre
for Sir Alfred. But, despite her words to St. Clair, she had been able to dismiss such a possibility as being too fantastical. Now she was not so certain, especially as she watched a fiery blush spread over Agatha’s cheeks. Nevertheless, she had no intention of discussing the matter in Alice’s presence, and so she changed the subject.

However, as soon as she and her companion were alone later that evening, she demanded, “Now, Agatha, just what is going on between you and Sir Alfred?”

“Well, dear, I have been meaning to tell you, only I wished to wait until...well, no matter. The truth is that I have come to care for Alfred a great deal.”

“Oh, Agatha, I don’t wish to cast a damper on your happiness, but do you think that is wise?” Then, before Agatha could reply, Jane continued, “But what a stupid question! I doubt that any female is wise when it comes to men. It is just that I do not wish to see you hurt.”

“Well, you can put your mind at ease on that score, for I shan’t be hurt,” Agatha told her. “You see, now that he has recovered from his gout, Alfred means to go to the Continent after all, and he has asked me to go with him.”

At Jane’s expression, Agatha laughed and said, “Oh, do not look so shocked, love. It is not a carte blanche he has offered me, but marriage. And I have accepted, so it will be our wedding trip, although we shall take Alice with us.”

For a moment, Jane did not know what to say. All she could do was wonder how she would survive now that she was losing Agatha, too. But then, shamed at such selfishness, she managed to smile and say, “Then I must wish you happy. And I
do
wish you happiness, for no one deserves it more. But there is no need to take Alice with you on your wedding trip. She can remain here with me.’’

“No, no,” said Agatha, her eyes twinkling merrily, “she will be no trouble for us. But I do not plan to desert you just yet. Alfred and I have agreed to postpone the wedding and the trip until your affairs are settled.”

Jane did not attempt to discourage Agatha, for she knew that she could not live here alone without a companion to lend her countenance. That was not what held her silent, however. She was considering a most daring plan for settling her own affairs, and wondering if she had the courage to see it through.

* * * *

At that very moment, St. Clair was demanding of Kearny, “What the devil do you mean by saying that she is going to marry that old reprobate? Damnation! I
told
her not to encourage him!”

Kearny gave an elaborate shrug and said, “All’s I know is what I heard when I stopped over at the Hall after getting the boy. One o’ your footmen had it straight from the lady’s own maid. ‘A certain spinster what lives at Meadowbrook,’ he says to me, ‘is about to be leg-shackled to the old squire.’”

“Indeed!” said St. Clair with narrowed eyes. Then he added as he strode towards the door, “We shall see about that!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Two mornings later, Jane sat at her writing table surrounded by wads of discarded paper and chewed on the end of her pen as she gazed down at yet another blank sheet. It had taken her a long time to build up her courage, and now she was finding it amazingly difficult to find the right words. How
did
one go about offering to become a man’s mistress?

With a deep sigh, she dipped the dry pen in the inkwell and began again.

My Dear St. Clair,

Since our last conversation, I have reached the conclusion that you were wrong. After giving the matter a great deal of thought, I have decided that I am, after all, perfectly willing to settle for less than marriage.

Jane paused and was trying to decide what next to say when she was distracted by a thunderous pounding. It sounded, in fact, as if someone were using a battering ram on the front doors. The noise then ceased abruptly.

Rising from her chair, she hurried over to place her ear against her chamber door. Unfortunately, she could hear nothing beyond a murmuring of voices.

Hoping to hear more, she eased her door open, although by now an irrational premonition had her heart pounding so loudly that she doubted it would help.

Nevertheless, Melrose’s voice came to her quite clearly. “But, sir, indeed, you cannot…”

He was interrupted by another voice, unmistakably St. Clair’s, shouting, “Jane! Get down here immediately! You have exactly five minutes to present yourself, or I shall come up there!’’

She did not doubt him for a second, and as she splashed her face with cold water and ran a brush hurriedly through her hair, she vacillated between extremes of hope and fear. Why was he here? Had he discovered that he missed her as much as she missed him? She could not help but ask herself why he should have come unless he
did
care for her, yet she feared being hurt again if she were wrong.

She winced as she took a final glance in the mirror. She was wearing one of her oldest gowns and she looked as if she had been thrown together all by guess. But at least she was presentable enough to show herself, and in time to prevent St. Clair from charging up the stairs and into her chamber. Still, as she made her way down the stairs, she found that her knees were shaking and her hands trembling. She could not remember ever having been so nervous in all her life.

Melrose nodded toward the drawing-room and muttered, “He’s in there. Miss Jane.”

“Thank you, Melrose,” she said.

Then, taking a deep breath, and with her head held high, she entered the drawing-room, intending to ask him what he meant by disturbing her household in such an outrageous way. But at the sight of him, she was rendered speechless.

He was attired in rumpled evening clothes; his hair looked as though it had not seen a comb or brush in a sennight, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot with dark circles under them. He must have been imbibing heavily, or else he had travelled straight through from London without sleep. Since she could detect no tell-tale odour of strong spirits, Jane had to surmise that the latter was the case. And despite herself, hope rose more strongly in her breast.

His eyes raked over her, and to her surprise, since he was scowling quite ferociously, he remarked, “I have never seen your hair down like that. I like it.”

“Th-thank you,” she said, just barely stopping herself from reaching up to touch her hair like some coy schoolgirl. “But, St. Clair, what are you doing here?”

“Ha!” he said, glaring even more fiercely. “I came to prevent a
certain spinster
from going through with her plan to marry Sir Alfred. That is what I am doing here.” Then, running his fingers through his already disheveled hair, he exclaimed, “Good God, Jane, the man is an over-aged loose screw. I could scarcely believe the news when I heard it. In fact, I would not have believed it had I not had it from Kearny, who swore that it came directly from your own maid.”

Jane frowned, thinking it odd that he should be so overset by Agatha’s marriage plans, but she only asked, “How did Kearny learn of it?”

“He stopped at Ethridge Hall for a few days after he retrieved our young urchin from the infirmary in Leeds.”

Jane gasped. “Then Kearny was the rough-looking man who took him. Oh, Jon, thank you for rescuing him. But I wish you had told me what you meant to do. You cannot know how I have worried about that child.”

“Yes, well, I am sorry for that, but you might have guessed that I could not leave him there. He would have ended in a foundling home or the workhouse, or worse.”

“Yes, that is what I was afraid of.”

“However,” he said, frowning again, “you are attempting to change the subject, and I have not finished what I came to say.”

“Very well,” she replied, “but could we not sit down and be more comfortable while you say it?”

“Certainly,” he answered, and graciously offered her a seat on her own sofa.

When she was settled, he sat opposite her, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I think I understand why you came to this decision, Jane. But really, my dear, it will not do. Good God! The man is old enough to be your father; and even worse, he is a member of the Prince Regent’s set, which is no recommendation at all!”

Jane stared at him blankly for a moment, but as the full realization of his misconception dawned upon her, she could not resist teasing him. She sighed and said, “Oh, St. Clair, I scarcely know how to tell you this, but I fear you have come on a sleeveless errand. You see, I agree with you completely.”

St. Clair straightened as though he had been slapped, scowled again, and demanded, “What the devil?”

“Yes,” Jane told him with another heavy sigh. “I had already decided that such a marriage would not do, although I believe that Sir Alfred means to change his ways.”

“Well, I am certainly glad that you came to your senses in time,” he said. “But whatever possessed you even to consider such a thing?”

He looked so peeved that she could no longer hold back her laughter. Finally she said, “Oh, St. Clair, I am sorry but, truly, I could not resist quizzing you.”

“Yes, you are having a great deal of fun at my expense, are you not? But perhaps it is time to let me in on the joke.”

“It was too bad of me, I know, but you really should have guessed the truth. It is Agatha who plans to marry Sir Alfred, not I.”

“Agatha!” he exclaimed. Then he said rather  sheepishly, “Well, it seems I am guilty of jumping to false conclusions.” He paused before adding, “But if Agatha is to be married, you will be in the market for a new companion, will you not? Do you have someone in mind?”

Realizing that she would never have a better opportunity to make her offer, Jane swallowed and said, “Actually I do, though not the sort you are likely to be imagining. I was thinking more along the lines of a... a male companion.”

“What nonsense are you talking now?” he growled.

Jane felt as if her cheeks must be on fire, but did her best to ignore the sensation as she forced herself to say, “Well, St. Clair, I have learned, since last seeing you, that I am a great deal more like my mother than I ever knew.” She paused to gather courage. “The truth is that I have discovered in myself a most reprehensible fondness for rakes.”

One of his eyebrows rose very slowly before he asked suspiciously, “Are you, by any chance, hinting for an offer from me?”

Jane searched his eyes, and finding a trace of the familiar laughter there, took even more courage. Enough courage to say, “Well, yes, but you needn’t worry. I am well aware that you are not in the market for a wife. Of course I should prefer you as a husband, but...”

She could not go on. It was almost more than she could do, to continue gazing at him unflinchingly when what she really felt like doing was hiding her face in her hands. She could not believe that
she,
of all people, had spoken so brazenly.

To make matters worse, his eyes now held an unholy gleam as he drawled, “Just what is it you are trying to say, Jane?”

Her heart sank as she realized that she was going to be obliged to put her proposition into words. But she could not back down now. Raising her chin bravely she said, “I am offering to become your mistress.”

“I see,” he said. “And just what put this notion into your head?”

“Well, to be perfectly frank, it was Agatha.”

“Agatha!” he exclaimed. “What the devil was she about to make such a suggestion?”

“No, no! She would never suggest such a thing. It was something she said which gave me the idea. I first thought of it when she mentioned something about a
carte blanche,
and since I had learned from Elsie that Lady Cathcart had not gone with you to London, I thought...”

He was not helping her a bit, but merely watching her with an interested expression on his face, so she said defiantly, “Well, you
did
kiss me on more than one occasion, so I thought perhaps you would not find such an alliance too distasteful, and—for God’s sake, St. Clair, will you please say something and stop me from babbling like this?”

Although she thought one corner of his mouth twitched slightly, he continued to study her closely, and it seemed like forever before he said, “I think, my dear, that you would do better to marry me, rather than fall victim to another rake or even a highwayman. There is no telling what fate might befall you if left to your own devices. No, I really cannot allow you to go about offering yourself in this way.”

“No, no, St. Clair,” she said with a small laugh. “You cannot think that I would go through this again. Good God! It was difficult enough with you. But, my dear friend, I care for you too much to allow you to sacrifice yourself in a loveless marriage. In fact...” She stopped because he had risen as she spoke.

Drawing her to her feet, too, he said, “If you do not know by now, my girl, that I am head over ears in love with you, then you are even greener than I thought.”

And, to punctuate his words, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her in such a way as to banish all her doubts. In truth, he was so passionate that his former kisses seemed quite tame, and by the time it was over, Jane was breathless.

But at last he drew back slightly and said, “Well, my love?”

“Well?” she repeated dazedly.

“Are you not going to tell me that you love me, too?”

“Oh! But Jon,” she said, “you must know that I do. I have loved you since you were a highwayman.”

He laughed and hugged her close again, saying, “Oh, Jane, thank God for your sharpshooting coachman.”