Chills (7 page)

Jack had settled on the bed edge, holding one of Virginia’s hands, a frown creasing his face. “Are you all right?”

“We overreacted,” Virginia whispered.

“The fault was mine,” he replied. “All forgiven?”

“Perhaps,” Virginia replied. “If you’ll help me see Pixie settled.”

When Jack raked his hand through his hair and growled, Constance returned to the washbasin.

It was a great pity the twins hadn’t come with instructions. She had no idea how to prevent this discussion without upsetting Virginia again. Perhaps she could talk to Jack later and convince him she didn’t need his assistance.

Constance took her time rinsing the cloth in more cool water. When she turned back, Jack had leaned forward until his head touched his twin’s.

Watching them together reminded her of their earlier conversation about marriage. At least Virginia had no surprises to contend with when Jack took his bride. His arranged marriage was a longstanding agreement, without love as far as she knew. Constance steeled herself to accept such a situation.

“Will I see you later?” Jack asked.

“Yes, as we planned.”

With a last look and squeeze of Virginia’s hand, Jack stood. When he approached Constance, his broad chest blocked Virginia from her view. His closer-than-usual proximity startled her.

He touched her sleeve, but then his hand swiftly fell away. “Will you stay with her, Miss Grange?”

“Of course. I won’t leave her.”

Constance raised her gaze past his waistcoat, past the mathematical knot in his cravat, to his frowning face. The glassiness of Jack’s eyes brought instant action. She settled her hand flat over his heart. There was so much uncertainty in his blue eyes that she lost her anger with him. He only wanted to protect his sister from scandal and foolishness. She couldn’t fault him for that.

The superfine of his waistcoat was smooth beneath her hand and she rubbed to soothe him. Cinnamon swamped her, smooth as velvet to her senses, creating a moment of peace amid the chaos. Prickles raced up her arm and warmth spread with it. In a moment so slow, Jack’s gaze dipped to where her hand rested and then he covered her fingers with his.

Blushing as tension sizzled through her, Constance snatched her hand back, dropped her eyes, and curled her fingers into her palm.

Jack moved and was gone long before Constance’s gaze had risen again.

CHAPTER FIVE

VIRGINIA STARED AT her reflection with a mixture of fear and disappointment. At nine and twenty, she should have felt more confident that she did. She tugged at the neckline of her gown and grimaced at the small scar, a constant reminder of pain etched on her skin. Her marriage had changed her, turning her into a weak woman—constantly afraid of exposure as a victim of violence. Her actions and reactions were still controlled by her late husband, a supposedly meek and mild gentleman who had turned the tables as soon as the wedding guests had gone.

Orkney had fooled her as he had fooled everyone. But his memory should not retain the power to manipulate her from the grave. During the four years since his death, he had kept an iron grip over her life, and she chafed at his continued influence.

She repositioned her neckline, smoothed her skirts, and thought of the way she used to be. Pixie was right—at one time, she had been fearless. But as Virginia tried to recall her life before she married, the memories skittered away behind a smothering blanket of pain.

The harder she struggled toward them, the heavier the blanket grew. Visions of strangling bed linen surfaced to blind her, and she gripped the bedpost to steady herself. Perhaps she didn’t need to remember the past now, but one day she vowed to. She would not remain a prisoner of her fears, left gasping at the memory of fresh, linen sheets pressed over her face.

Determined, she left her chamber then made her way down to breakfast. It was too early for Pixie to be up, but Virginia had to regain her life—and especially her confidence. As the footman lay dishes on the sideboard, silent, efficient, and above all else, respectful, his gaze flickered to where she stood waiting.

Approaching the array of dishes, Virginia stepped close to the tall footman and waited as he reached for a plate. The servant moved slowly, holding her plate while she picked out the food she liked, doing his best not to startle her. The poor servants had endured far too much of her skittishness. When heavy footsteps paused at the door, she repressed the urge to turn. She would not overreact today. It would only be the butler, assessing the footmen going about their duties.

But the soft swish of skirts turned her around. Pixie had dragged herself from slumber earlier than usual, yet the tense set of Pixie’s shoulders spoke of unease, and a poor night of rest.
 

“Didn’t you sleep well?”

“Not particularly, no,” Pixie replied. Her tired eyes turned and she waved away the hovering servant.

What could have preyed on her mind?

Then Virginia remembered yesterday’s argument. “You didn’t lose sleep over my grouchy brother, did you?”

“He was very angry,” Pixie said. “Perhaps I had better go home.”

“Pish posh. My brother might be marginally older, and a marquess, but he is not my master. We had that particular argument out when we were seven. I give you leave to ignore him when he becomes unreasonable. I am going to help you, with or without his approval.”

“He won’t like that,” Pixie promised.

Jack could go to the devil. Virginia grasped Pixie’s cold fingers and squeezed. Really, Jack should be ashamed of himself for causing her friend distress. She should have protected Pixie from him yesterday, and silently promised to do better by her from now on.

“Pixie, he is just like any normal man. Once he cools down, he will behave as if nothing has happened. Trust me on this.”

~ * ~

Wind whipped through Jack’s hair and freed the long strands from their once tight confinement. He shifted his weight and drew back on the reins, gently at first, and then with more insistence as his horse tried to ignore his command to slow. Lucarno, the finest stallion he’d ever owned, snorted as Jack used firmer pressure on the reins to drop them back to a canter. He couldn’t ride forever.

But he wanted to.

Lucarno tossed his head but broke to a trot, and then a walk. The exuberant horse hated moving slowly so Jack thumped his glistening neck in gratitude.

He had a lot to think over this morning.

First and foremost, he was ashamed to have lost his temper with Virginia. He never yelled at his sister unless she was shouting back at him, too. He had crossed a line yesterday and hoped he’d not affected her recovery. Jack hadn’t meant to blame her for the damned list, but he couldn’t have acted out his first impulse. He had chosen what he’d thought was the lesser of two reactions.

The second, and most puzzling, was his reaction to that list. By the time he’d read the third name, he’d known what it was meant for. Pixie was hunting a rich husband. Fury, unlike anything he’d known before, had lashed at him. He had held back from throttling her by the skin of his teeth.

Yet Jack had forced himself to read the rest of the names, to be sure he had not misunderstood. But all of them were single gentlemen, wealthy—and all younger than him. Lord Hallam was the only exception, and his name graced the first line. Virginia had put him there. When Hallam found out, he’d be furious.

Jack, to his considerable horror, was angry because his own name hadn’t been anywhere on the damned list.

Old, arrogant, and unwanted.

Fury built anew and Lucarno sidestepped in agitation as Jack sent mixed signals to the horse. Cursing under his breath, Jack gentled him and set off for home, still no closer to understanding his reaction. It wasn’t as if he was ancient. And despite what Pixie thought, lots of gentlemen married at an age older than his—most marrying young things barely out of the schoolroom.

What was he thinking?

He didn’t want to be a target for any young miss bent on catching herself a wealthy husband. He’d decided long ago that marriage wasn’t for him. After seeing what Virginia had gone through, courtesy of her loathsome spouse, he had no wish to make a match.

Jack didn’t need to be on that list, but a part of him—the stupid part obviously—thought his name should be there. He could amply afford Pixie. Her debts wouldn’t cause a ripple of distress for the estate. The sooner he could take control of her life and gain the right to dress-down Mrs. Grange, the better.

Jack pulled his horse up sharply and cursed aloud.

He did not want to marry.

Jack let loose a string of curses. He did not want to marry Pixie. But that foolish part of him thought it was the best idea he had ever had. He did find her more attractive than he should.

He kicked Lucarno into a gallop, attempting to run from that very thought. He liked his life as it was. There was no need to take a wife yet.

Damnation. Eternal damnation.

There were plenty of good reasons not to marry Pixie. She thought him old and arrogant, most likely thought of him as a parent figure, too, thanks to the guardianship. He grimaced. Virginia had hinted he could change Pixie’s mind, but he wasn’t going to change anything. He liked their little discordant rubs. He liked that she’d stopped being agreeable.

Jack imagined the dressing down Pixie was waiting to give him when she got the chance. With luck, Virginia would be occupied elsewhere long enough for the sparks to truly fly. He could imagine the little woman’s aggressive scowl, lightning quick fingers flashing to illustrate her point.

Perhaps she’d touch him again. The sensation of Pixie’s fingers rubbing against his chest had affected him. Overwhelmed by the sublime scent she wore, that touch had sparked something else. Something he hadn’t wanted to admit to. A reaction, if he was honest with himself, he’d been fighting for quite some time. He lusted after the pint-sized woman.

His Pixie—he’d even given her the nickname.

Shocked at his own thoughts, he pulled on the reins and stopped again. Dear God, he couldn’t want Pixie like this.

“What the devil are you doing?”

Jack glanced up. A rider on the ugliest mount he’d ever viewed regarded him from the nearby stand of trees.

He groaned. “Riding. What are you doing, Hallam?”

“Waiting for you to stop talking to yourself in public and move your horse in a forward direction. Are you aware that you have been riding in circles for the last half hour? Lucarno is going to throw you if you don’t start paying attention.”

Jack glanced around at the same park scenery.

Hallam chuckled. “Must be a large problem you’re contemplating. Are you going to return home now? Lucarno looks to have exercised enough for one day.”

Annoyed by his preoccupation, Jack shook the reins and joined Hallam under the trees. “Yes, I’m done for now.”

Hallam tapped Jack’s boot with his riding crop. “Good. I thought for a moment someone was going to have to die before you stopped.”

 
“Not yet.” But close enough, if he listened to what his body wanted. Pixie would surely be the death of him.

Luckily, Hallam didn’t ask what problem he’d been wrestling with. Their simple conversation blocked out his disturbing thoughts until they were crossing to the house. Virginia and Pixie stood in the garden. He slowed his steps, cursing his lack of planning. He had no idea what he was going to say to Pixie after yesterday’s outburst. How could he explain his reaction without appearing an utter fool?

Virginia straightened at the sound of their booted feet crunching across the gravel. She scowled when she saw Hallam. Then her shoulders squared, the stubborn, family jaw clenched tight.

“Good morning, sister. Look who I ran into.” Jack kissed Virginia’s offered cheek, but she dismissed him with the barest glance, electing to keep her gaze trained on Hallam.

“Lady Orkney.”

Given the belligerent tone in Hallam’s greeting, Jack braced himself for trouble. Hallam stepped close to Virginia, but she did not extend her hand, or offer her cheek to their old friend and neighbor. Instead, his sister dusted her clean fingers with a rag, ignoring Hallam.

“My lord, so good to see that you still know the direction of London. Perhaps you could consult a map again to find your way home to Parkwood. I have heard your mother only has a dim recollection of your features.” Virginia laughed. “She mistook a gardener for you just last month.”

Hallam stepped back. Hallam had disliked the man Virginia had married even before the damage was done. With Orkney dead and unlamented, Hallam didn’t bother to hide his disapproval.

“Mother’s eyesight is failing,” Hallam growled. “What would be your excuse for confusing Orkney for a gentleman?”

Jack winced. When would Hallam learn that these tactics would not gain her trust? Virginia had a stubborn streak a mile wide and particularly disliked any reference to past mistakes. It didn’t help that she and Hallam were very similar creatures.

“At least he knew how to present a respectable image in public.”

“Oh, I know how to dress and undress too,” Hallam challenged. “I could show you my expertise. Privately.”