What an Earl Wants (14 page)
He extracted his hand from Richard’s hearty grip, not without
effort, and headed for the stairs. Now to tell Jessica what he’d decided. He
doubted her reaction would mirror that of her
uncle.
When he entered the small sitting room, it was to see her
tucked into a corner of the couch, her head bent low, her knees tucked up almost
to her chin. She’d taken the pins from her glorious red hair, so that it hung
down, nearly obscuring her face. Her hands were clasped together around her
shins, her bare feet poking out from beneath the hem of the simple yellow gown.
It was as if she was trying to make herself small, trying to disappear inside
herself. A...defensive position. Habit, he supposed, adopted during her time
with James Linden. One he could only hope to break.
At the sound of the door closing behind him, she pushed back
her hair and tilted her head to watch him as he crossed the room and sat down
beside her. “I assumed you would have thought better of it and gone on your
way,” she said before turning her face forward once more, to continue staring at
whatever it was she saw in front of her...either the fireplace, or her past. He
felt fairly certain it was the latter.
Gideon extracted a white linen square from his pocket and held
it up in front of her. “Blow your nose.”
“I don’t need to—” She snatched the handkerchief and did what
he asked. And not very daintily.
Stupidly, he felt himself smiling.
Young
and innocent...older than time itself.
Yes, Richard had that one
correctly, didn’t he?
“Thank you,” she said after wiping at her tear-wet face and
just before nearly handing him back the handkerchief before pocketing it. “I’ll
see that Doreen washes and presses it for you.”
“I think my grandmother likes you,” he said after they’d both
stared at the fireplace for some time.
“I don’t care.”
“Not many people would dare to speak to her the way you
did.”
“Perhaps more should. She’s the worst sort of tyrant. She’s
likable.”
“She’s also quite intelligent,” Gideon said, lifting his legs
and crossing them one ankle over the other on the low table in front of the
couch. He was, after all, a man who enjoyed his comforts. “Or don’t you think
so?”
“Intelligent? Yes, definitely. And devious. She wasn’t going to
tell us anything until I’d told her things I’ve never said to anyone save
Richard.”
“
Quid pro quo.
I did warn you.”
Jessica sighed and made use of the handkerchief once again.
“And Richard? You were downstairs for a long time. What did he tell you, and
what did you tell him in return? Or did you simply bully an old man?”
Gideon picked a bit of lint off the knee of his fawn breeches.
“I know now how James Linden died, and Richard now knows you and I are to be
married. He didn’t say it outright, but from the way he pumped my hand until I
thought it might fall off, I believe we have his blessing.”
And then he waited for the explosion, outwardly calm and
relaxed, inwardly tense and taut as the string on a cocked crossbow.
The explosion never came.
“Yes, I thought that might be the case. Either you left, which
most men would have done, or you’d concoct some ridiculous notion that your
father was indirectly responsible for what happened to me and you see yourself
as doing penance for his sin.”
“Is that what I’m doing? Really? I’ve never seen myself as the
penitent sort.”
“I doubt many would disagree with you,” she said quietly. “But
I saw your face as the dowager countess was speaking, telling us things I
already knew but you couldn’t know. My father is responsible for what happened
to me. My father, and...and my husband. They’re both dead. It’s over, Gideon,
and I simply want to get on with my life. I’ve seen more of the world than most
people will and enjoyed many of my travels. Richard and I have managed to save a
considerable sum toward the inn we’re going to own one day. I’m content as I am,
and you are not responsible for me. To think otherwise would be ludicrous.”
“Penitent and ludicrous. Not the usual words to follow a
marriage proposal, not that you haven’t already turned down what you’ve not
allowed me to yet offer.”
“Don’t be agreeable,” she said, lowering her head to her knees.
“It doesn’t come naturally to you.”
No, it didn’t; Gideon rather liked the idea of being the oldest
son, the earl. He enjoyed getting his own way. Clearly Jessica hadn’t just
learned to read the cards during her time standing behind Linden’s shoulder.
She’d also learned to read people. That she’d even allowed him to sit down next
to her was a wonder. “All right. Then let’s at least be honest. Give me your
hand. I mean that in the literal sense. Let me see your hand. Both of them,
actually. Then I’ll go.”
She lifted her head, her eyes dark with tears. “Richard gossips
like an old woman,” she said, sighing. “And you’re lying, just like your
grandmother.”
“Probably. It would appear to be one of a myriad of
unflattering family traits. In all honesty, there are more. Now show me.
Please.”
She lowered her legs and shifted her position toward him,
turning over her hands to expose her wrists. He saw the scars, a thin line
running just below the base of each palm.
“Sweet Jesus.”
Jessica retracted her hands, folding them neatly in her lap.
“And now you want the story, don’t you?”
Gideon shook his head. “Not if you don’t want to tell it,
no.”
She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to her one way or the
other. “My stepmother’s jewelry, most of it, wasn’t where I’d supposed, so what
with hiring coaches and booking passage for two of us, the pittance James was
forced to take wasn’t going to last long at all. It would seem nobody believed
he hadn’t stolen the pieces, and the prices he was offered weren’t nearly as
wonderful as he’d hoped.”
“He could have simply left you and gone on off on his own.”
“I suppose. But James had another answer. He was always the one
for coming up with new schemes. I was in our room at a small hotel in Brussels.
It was early days, the evening of our wedding. He’d explained that he’d
compromised me by taking me with him, and he was doing the only honorable thing
by marrying me. No, I didn’t know him well, but I’d seen him on the estate
several times, and he’d always been polite. At the very least, he was clean. And
he had saved me, no matter that he was mostly saving himself.”
Jessica smiled. “I was so young, so stupid. Even grateful. What
he said seemed logical. I certainly couldn’t go home to what my father planned
for me, could I? Marriage seemed the only answer. James ordered a tub for me
after the ceremony, and then a lovely meal brought up to our bridal chamber. I
dressed in the new gown he’d bought for me. I was nervous, very much so, but I
had made my bed, as my old nurse had been prone to tell me when I’d done
something to displease her, and now I was resigned to lie in it. And...and then
there was a knock at the door. I opened it, thinking it was James....”
Gideon suddenly knew where this calmly told story was heading.
“That son of a bitch.”
“Yes. That son of a bitch. He entered behind the man and told
me what he’d done, what I was supposed to do. He’d sold my virginity, our
wedding night. When I understood, I snatched up one of the knives from the table
and...I didn’t do it very well. The cuts were fairly shallow, but the blood was
enough to send the man scurrying away. At least he never tried to sell me again,
for fear I’d succeed in killing myself the next time. He found another use for
me.”
“Distracting his fellow gamblers,” Gideon said, “all while you
watched the cards, plotting your escape.”
She wiped at her damp cheeks and smiled. She actually smiled.
“While pilfering small sums of money from James when he was too drunk to
remember how much was in his pockets, and then sitting quietly on the hearth as
he slept, using the light from the fire to see while I sewed coins into the hem
of my cloak. For too long, I did nothing but cry, and feel sorry for myself and
my terrible plight. But I didn’t stay stupid forever, Gideon. I couldn’t afford
to, could I? Two hundred and twelve days, that’s how long I was with James. Each
one of them an eternity, but each one bringing me closer to freedom. I was all
but ready to make my escape, biding my time until we visited a port city again,
when Richard came along. My
real
knight in shining
armor.”
“I’m going to settle twenty thousand pounds on him tomorrow. It
isn’t enough. There could never be enough.”
Jessica’s smile disappeared as if it had never been, as if the
light had never come back into her eyes. “Now you want Richard to sell me?”
“Oh, God. Damn! That wasn’t what I intended. Marry me, Jessica,
don’t marry me. Richard still gets the settlement, the two of you get your damn
inn or whatever you want. But we want answers, or at least I do, and you want to
protect your brother. Become my countess, and you can go into society with me,
we can do our own investigating. Trixie is...I don’t know how much she knows,
how much she didn’t tell us.”
Jessica got to her feet, smoothed down her gown. “You sensed
it, too? For all she said, I think she may have been holding something back. I
can understand that. He was her son, after all, and he was a monster.”
“A monster, yes. Playing a very dangerous game.” Gideon rose,
as well. “So she seemed frightened to you, as well, handing out her warnings
about your brother? Trixie isn’t the sort to be frightened.”
“It wouldn’t be natural if she wasn’t frightened. People are
dying, Gideon, people who knew the sort of things she knows. She says no one
would dare touch her—but can she be sure?”
“Can any of us be sure of anything? We also have to consider
Adam. You’d be with him, residing under the same strong, well-guarded roof. He’s
young, Jessica, just as you were young. But not nearly so strong as his sister.
If they’re keeping to the devil’s thirteen, your father’s vacant seat needs to
be filled. Adam could be approached, you said so yourself.”
“I know what I said, you needn’t keep beating me over the head
with my own words, you know.” She seemed to search his face with her eyes, as if
hunting some escape route. “There’s no other way to go about it?”
He had her on the ropes now, he could see it. He was a
Redgrave, so he would push his advantage. And, yes, please God, he would sleep
nights.
“I’m the Earl of Saltwood. I have a reputation, God help me,
but at times it serves me well. My countess will be accepted everywhere. Nobody
would dare to deny you. If our murderer is in society, we need to be there, as
well. I haven’t stepped inside Almacks in years, nor do I usually attend every
damn ball and rout and picnic that litters the Season. But with a fiancée, a new
bride on my arm? I’d be expected to make all the rounds. Invitations from the
curious will pile up on my mantelpiece like snow. Perhaps several from members
of the Society, anxious to see Linden’s widow. We won’t have to search them out,
Jessica, they’ll come to us. I pride myself on being observant, but you’ve the
better of me there, I’m convinced of that. And then there are the widows, the
wives. It should be easier going for you to gain their confidence than me. It’s
all logical.”
“Logical. I suppose so. But I don’t want to marry you. I vowed
never to marry again. A woman has no power beyond the will of her husband.”
“No power?” He touched a hand to her cheek and kept it there.
When he spoke again, his tone was soft, perhaps even tender. “You sincerely
don’t know, do you? How beautiful you are, how desirable, what an
extraordinarily strong, brave and special woman you’ve made of yourself against
all odds. You have no idea how you can figuratively take me to the floor just by
looking at me. I’m not going to go down on one knee to profess some undying love
for you. You’re too intelligent to swallow such a bag of moonshine. In part I’m
attempting to pay a debt my family owes you, thanks indirectly to the actions of
my father and grandfather. I’m attempting to soothe my own conscience for what
happened here the other night. I admit that freely also. But know this, as well,
Jessica soon-never-again-to-be-Linden, I would never,
never
intentionally hurt you.”
A single tear ran down her cheek, burning his skin.
“You’re a fool, Gideon Redgrave, and arrogant into the bargain.
Nobody can save the world, you know, not even you. Yes, all right, I see the
wisdom in marrying you.”
Gideon covered his relief with a chuckle. “My sister has said
the Redgraves are the least romantical people in all of England. You’ll fit in
very well. Now, to seal the betrothal?”
He leaned in and kissed her. On the cheek. Bloody hell, on the
cheek.
But that was now. He could scarcely have heard what she and
Richard had told him this past hour and dare to attempt anything more. The
ancient Greek was right:
timing is in all things the most
important factor.
He’d had her beneath him, he’d felt her first
stirrings of fire; he could awaken her even more, teach her pleasure she could
still not possibly imagine. He knew what awaited him, awaited them both, if he
was patient, and he was very good at being patient.
He left her where she stood and strode into her bedchamber,
returning moments later with James Linden’s wadded-up banyan clutched in one
angry fist. “
This
doesn’t come to Portman Square
with you,” he said, holding it aloft as he headed for the stairs.
He didn’t look back, but he hoped she was smiling....
“I
SUPPOSE
IT
WILL
DO
,”
Adam Collier said, sighing disappointedly as he made his way
around Jessica, taking a full circuit in his red-heeled shoes, quizzing glass
stuck to his eye. “But perhaps too crushingly ordinary? I mean, really—lavender?
Must
we?” He waved the glass at the hovering
modiste. “Bows. That’s what’s needed. At the hem, on those capped sleeves. Yes,
that’s the very thing. I’m never wrong. See to it, woman.”
Jessica rolled her eyes as she looked into the mirror at her
reflection. “Bows, Adam? We’re in mourning, remember? By rights, I shouldn’t be
going into society at all. You may escape with that ridiculous black band, but I
can hardly pretend Papa and Clarissa aren’t barely in their graves. Even if he
did publicly disown me for eloping with James.”
“I had that wrong, didn’t I? You didn’t eat bad fish, you
married
it.” Adam shrugged eloquently in his tightly
fitted swan tailcoat. “I was young, and not told much of anything. Your name
simply wasn’t to be mentioned again. Mama explained that, though.”
“Oh? And how did that explanation go, precisely?”
“It pained Papa to think of you, of course.” Adam snatched up
one of the hastily constructed bows made up of the same lavender silk and held
it to the center of Jessica’s bodice. “No, not there. Yes, just as I first
thought, on the sleeves, and then a dozen more, dancing about the hem. And
perhaps dusted with something sparkling? I do adore sparkles. A pity we men
can’t embellish ourselves with brilliance. Although Papa used to sprinkle
glittering dust in with the powder for his wig on special occasions, as I recall
it. Vain man, our father, and he would persist in clinging to his periwig even
after the fashion so clearly changed. He should have seen himself after the
fire. No amount of glitter could have been any help to him then, hmm?”
“Adam!” Jessica pulled him closer, ignoring his near shriek of
alarm as she wrinkled his neck cloth in her fist. “Take a moment to think where
we are,” she whispered in warning. “Someone could overhear you. Imagine Gideon’s
reaction.”
Adam carefully disengaged himself from her grip, then anxiously
fluffed at the lacy cravat. “I’d rather not, thank you. I’d rather not think
about him at all. Are you quite sure you want to bracket yourself to my brute of
a guardian? He won’t let either one of us take two steps in any direction on our
own. His dogs
drool,
and he dresses with no
imagination whatsoever. Black and white. Blue and tan. Black and white again. I
imagine he will expire of
ennui
within the year. No
sense of style. None. Did I mention his dogs
drool?
And leave their hair everywhere, to be caught up on my rig-outs? I don’t know
how I put up with it, truly I don’t. As it is, my valet must follow me around
with a brush...and a sponge.”
“If you’re quite finished, Adam?” Jessica said as the modiste
pinned the last bow to her hem. “Thank you, Marie, that’s much better. My
brother may have a future in designing women’s gowns.”
Adam brightened at this suggestion. “One can only hope so. Only
those with a keen eye for such things are invited to witness a woman’s
toilette,
you know. And once in the proximity of the
bedchamber, a clever fellow can make further inroads.”
“More clever than attempting to
inroad
Mildred in a cupboard, I would hope.”
Adam gave a wave of his hand, the lace-edged handkerchief
perpetually clutched in his paw giving off a whiff of rather cloying scent. “I
should ask the woman just who was the instigator of that aborted tryst, were I
you. She offered to further my education. I knew what that meant, let me tell
you! Demmed inconvenient of you to discover us just as she was being so clever
about unbuttoning my breeches. Strong teeth, the woman has. We did, however,
reconvene later, and it would appear Mildred is a creature of her word, for it
was
an education I received. Oh, my, yes.”
“Adam, for the love of God...”
“Yes, yes, for the love of somebody, I’m sure,” he said
offhandedly. “For Mildred, however, it was a half crown and my most sincere
thanks. I’ll turn my back again now, so that the lavender disappears, which may
not please God but will thrill me beyond measure. What else were you so silly as
to order without first consulting me?”
“
I
only ordered a few things,” she
told him. “Gideon insisted upon taking care of the rest after I was measured,
while I had tea and cakes in a small guest parlor. It’s his money, so that
seemed only proper. Besides, I don’t know the current fashions.”
“Does that explain the lavender, or was it his choice?”
“Mine, if you must know,” she admitted, feeling rather put
upon.
“And again we give thanks, and good on Gideon,” Adam said. “If
I were to have to witness the unveiling of an entire wardrobe of the incredible
dullness
you consider proper, sister mine, I
would wonder what terrible sin I’ve committed to be punished so. But good old
Gideon has had the dressing and undressing of literally
dozens
of women, I would suppose, so he may have developed an eye
for what best flatters the female form.”
“You say the most delightful things, Adam,” Jessica told him as
Marie looked at her in some compassion before bustling out of the room.
“I do? Oh, that wasn’t a compliment, was it? How gauche of me.
My apologies, I’m sure. But think on it, Jessica, the man’s dead old, so he has
to have had his share. I’m just eighteen, and I’ve already bedded eight—no,
Mildred wasn’t an actual bedding, now that I think on it, but more of a
footnote—so, seven different females already this year. A dozen last year, and
the year before, ten, I believe. I keep a journal, you see, so I can check if
you should want me to total them up for you. All my conquests are captured there
in detail, names, dates, number and level of
encounters
and the form each took. In the event I decide to one day
pen my memoirs, you understand. Papa suggested it and reviewed it every year,
making suggestions as to how I could improve. But to continue, the year before
that—”
Jessica looked to the curtained doorway, relieved to see Marie
wasn’t already heading back into the fitting room with another gown. “The year
before that you were
fifteen!
”
He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Yes, I was. For my
birthday, Papa took me to the Duck and Grapes and sent me upstairs with two of
the barmaids, to make a man of me, he said.
Two,
Jessica! Conquest is what a man is all about, and he would be sure to make me a
man. Each birthday, a new delight was in store for me. The passions of the flesh
feed the passions of the mind, so that it’s imperative for a man with
aspirations of greatness to dine, as it were, with regularity, et cetera,
ad nauseam.
It’s our duty to fornicate with as many
women as possible. That’s what Papa told me, all but drummed into my head.”
He laughed. Perhaps giggled. “I just wanted the women, you
understand, so I humored him. Mama, bless her, encouraged me, as well. I was
surrounded by comely housemaids, handpicked by her. Adventuresome sorts, and
eager to please. Isn’t it grand to live in such a free and open society?”
Halfway through these astounding revelations, Jessica’s mouth
had dropped open, and she stared at her brother’s back, unable to tell him to
stop. This was what she’d wanted to hear, although had dreaded the hearing, had
still not found a way to broach the subject with him. But now he was
volunteering it all, and without shame, even without pride, thank God. But did
he have to pick this place, this moment?
“Although I didn’t much care for the lessons.”
“Lessons?” Jessica squeaked, horrified.
“Yes, I had Papa as a tutor, over and above my schooling. Why
did I need to read all these treatises on history and politics and such? That
Machiavelli chap? Now there was a queer duck, let me tell you! And others. Lets
see. There was Marat, Robespierre, Thomas Becket. Caligula—now
he
was interesting! More, but I forget them. All
assassinated, you know, for the good of others who wanted to take their places
or rid themselves of an opponent. I forget most of it, how each one died. But I
do know how many times Julius Caesar was stabbed by his small swarm of enemies,
if you’d care to learn? Twenty-three! The trick to it was that no one could
actually say for certain which thrust of which blade did the actual deed.
Clever, don’t you think?”
Jessica’s heart was pounding as she tried desperately not to
sound shocked and repulsed to her toes. Wait until she told Gideon about
this!
“I suppose so. We’ll talk more about this later,
Adam, if you don’t mind.”
He shrugged, still with his back to her. “Certainly. Time and
place, Jessica, time and place. I have no idea why you wanted to talk about it
now.”
“Why
I
— Adam, you’re a noodle, do
you know that? An absolute
noodle.
” And then she
said a silent
thank you
to God that he was.
“Now you sound like Papa. If I had a penny piece for each time
he despaired of me as useless...” he complained without much heat. He extracted
a snuffbox from his waistcoat and proceeded to take a dip, and then sneezed
several times into his handkerchief with some enthusiasm.
Marie bustled back into the room as the last sneeze faded and
Jessica bent at the knees so that the modiste could lift the lavender gown up
and over her head, leaving her in her new undergarments.
At Gideon’s express orders, each and every piece had been lined
with silk, and the corset she wore at the moment, cut low straight across her
breasts, was such a beautiful confection of white lace and pink lacing ribbons
that secured in front, so that she had control over how tightly they were
tugged, that she felt enhanced rather than trapped inside the thing. Beneath it
were her wonderful French drawers, and the petticoat tied at her waist assured
her she could move freely in sunlight or candlelight without fear her body would
be immodestly outlined.
She lifted her hands to cup the undersides of her breasts,
thinking she looked rather wonderful in these glorious new garments. It seemed
almost a pity to cover them.
“And another thing— Ah, I shouldn’t have turned around, should
I?” Adam said. “I suppose I’ll wait somewhere else until you call me back?” He
pointed to the curtained doorway leading out into the shop.
“Yes, that seems a good idea,” Jessica told him as she quickly
crossed her arms over her bosom, happy to see that at least her brother had
enough sense to finally be put to the blush. Honestly, was there anything he
wouldn’t say?
Marie indicated she should remove her corset, and, while still
thinking about everything Adam had told her, she complied, before Marie helped
her out of the slip. She shivered slightly in her near nakedness, hoping Adam
didn’t decide to poke his head back into the fitting room to tell her something
else she wished she didn’t need to know.
Getting to know her half brother this past week and more as he
was, rather than to continue imagining him as the shy child she remembered, had
been an education for her. He really was quite adorable. Rather like a puppy,
she’d remarked to Gideon, who’d agreed, saying you were sometimes tempted to
scratch him behind the ears, but all while keeping aware that in his excitement
he may at any moment piddle on the carpet.
Gideon. Jessica tried very hard not to think about him at all.
Since that was impossible, she’d done her best to avoid him as he went about
doing whatever it is earls do, the two of them meeting most often at the dinner
table, as she breakfasted in her rooms and he was rarely in Portman Square in
time for luncheon.
Having Adam and Richard at table with them every night was not
conducive to anything more than polite conversation. Gideon would then take
himself off again, making the rounds of several parties, paving the way, he
said, for their appearance as an affianced couple or, better yet, husband and
wife, if he could convince the archbishop to issue a Special License before the
necessary three weeks to call the banns.
As he was clearly chafing against waiting out the days, he’d
teased just yesterday that he was tempted to soon sic Trixie on the man, who
wasn’t immune to her charms. Jessica had asked him how he would know that, but
then had tactfully withdrawn the question.
He did accompany her to Bond Street on three separate
occasions, but then he was so busy autocratically ordering gloves and footwear
and bonnets and gowns that she had found herself retreating into a more
comfortable place in her mind, where she could pretend she wasn’t being dressed
up for a reason that had less to do with a fiancé gifting his betrothed with
wedding clothes than it did with tricking her out for show, just as James had
done.
She didn’t believe Gideon saw it that way, but she couldn’t
quite help herself sometimes, when the past seemed to intrude on the
present.
In any event, what with one thing or the other, they had seemed
to communicate for the most part by way of notes.
The announcement will appear in all the
morning newspapers tomorrow. Richard is explained as a maternal uncle. Too
late now for second thoughts, my dear, for either of us. G.
The dowager countess sends her blessing,
pointing out her grandson neglected to petition for it, and alluding to the
possibility you may have been raised by wild wolves. I don’t believe she has
considered how this reflects on her. Or perhaps she has, and this was a
warning. When it comes to your grandmother, I may overthink matters.
J.
