Just This Once (17 page)

She wouldn’t fail. She would succeed.

But first she had to find the courage to
leave this room.

She saw Devon casting anxious glances at her
beneath her lashes as she gathered up the gown Josie had worn this
afternoon to be sponged and pressed. The girl was wondering why she
didn’t go down. It was growing late.

“Don’t wait up for me, Devon,” she said,
rising from the chair with her knees quivering. “We may be quite
late.”

“Yes, my lady.”

And then she gathered up her jeweled evening
bag, her gloves, and her embroidered chiffon fan, and swept from
the room, mindful to take small, careful steps in the tight-fitting
gown, her head held high as Mr. Latherby had instructed. As she
descended the staircase she heard footsteps far below and saw Ethan
stride to the bottom of the stairs. He put a hand on the banister
and scowled up at her.

She wondered if he had scowled at that other
girl the same way. The one Cousin Oliver had told her about. No,
Josie decided, on a wave of glumness, he had probably smiled at
her. And laughed with her. And complimented her. Whoever she was.
It sounded as if he had defied his father because he cared for her,
so she must have mattered to him—mattered a great deal.

She wished she knew the story of that girl.
She had to believe that knowing would somehow help her understand
Ethan Savage. And perhaps reach him. Because she knew that beneath
his restlessness, his arrogance and harshness, there was not only
anger, but a deep, long-buried pain.

Josie wanted... what? To ease it somehow.
Perhaps even to heal it, to soothe away the trouble knotting in his
soul.

But she realized as he stared up the
staircase at her with such remote coolness that she had a better
chance of sprouting wings and flying than of ever getting the
chance to try.

How devastatingly handsome he looked in his
black evening coat and vest, his high-collared, snowy linen shirt
looking even whiter against the bronze of his skin, his raven hair
gleaming in the light of the chandelier. Somehow the elegance of
his attire, its very correctness, made him look all the more rugged
and dangerously handsome. His expression didn’t change as she
descended toward him. Well, perhaps a bit. His eyes grew even
frostier. Josie fought back disappointment.

What had she expected, that he would gape at
her openmouthed and spew out a babble of compliments he couldn’t
contain?

She told herself she’d best forget about
dazzling Ethan Savage, and concentrate instead on not falling down
the stairs.

Ethan, meanwhile, had all he could do not to
grit his teeth. Damn, the vision coming toward him was enough to
make any man drool. The little thief he’d dragged into the
garbage-strewn Abilene alley looked as if she’d been born in a
palace. Her hair shone like copper in the chandelier light, her
fine-boned face held the delicate beauty of some long-ago storybook
princess, and the eyes gazing down into his with eager brilliance
shook him to his soul.

And mixed in tantalizingly with all this
heart-stopping loveliness was the unconsciously sensual sway of her
hips as she took her dainty steps, the slender curves accentuated
by the tight sweep of her gown. It didn’t help that he remembered
all too well the feel of her atop his lap. He battled a fierce urge
to vault up the stairs, scoop her into his arms, and savor the
softness of her pressed against him once more.

Lunacy, to be sure. The last thing he could
afford to do with his untrustworthy new wife was display any sign
of affection or weakness. Then his goose would be cooked for
sure.

But what grist for the mill it would provide
the servants, Ethan thought, suppressing a devilish grin. His sense
of humor could readily appreciate the gossip that would fly
belowstairs if he were to dash up the steps and sweep his wife into
his arms before one and all. He was almost tempted to do it—not
only to experience the delights of Josie Cooper Savage pressed up
against him, but to see the expression of shock on the faces of the
servants gathered in the hall.

John, the footman, stood at attention, ready
to open the door for them when they departed. Rupert, another
footman, and Perkins had been passing through the hall, but now
each had come to a complete halt and all three servants were
staring up as if transfixed at the sight of the delicate, exquisite
woman descending the staircase.

Ethan was sorely tempted. But sanity won,
and he stayed where he was, concentrating on maintaining his
equanimity. It helped to remember just who that woman coming toward
him really was: not a princess, not an angel, not even a lady, just
a thief and dance hall girl who’d steal him blind if he gave her
half a chance.

But if she was going to continue to look
this fetching every time he encountered her, he’d need to find
himself a mistress in London pretty damn quick just to keep himself
distracted.

Josie’s stomach fluttered more and more
nervously as she neared the bottom of the staircase. When she saw
that the butler and two footmen had paused in the hall to watch her
progress, her breath locked in her throat. The way they were
staring at her, she wondered frantically if the silk buttons of her
bodice had come undone, or the ribbons of her shoes had come
untied. She offered the servants a hesitant smile, then couldn’t
resist glancing down at her shoes, just to make sure.

“Don’t look down!” a voice hissed angrily
from a doorway below. Latherby’s voice. Her glance flew toward him
uncertainly, and her hand faltered on the banister. The sudden
movement sent her teetering over the step, and the next thing she
knew her fan went flying and she was pitching forward, a scream
bubbling in her throat.

Then she was caught in a powerful pair of
arms that were beginning to feel treacherously familiar. Ethan
clutched her fast against his chest.

“You clumsy girl, this will never do,” the
solicitor groaned, rushing forward, then suddenly froze as Ethan’s
gaze swerved to him, and Latherby saw that the Earl’s eyes were
like gray ice. Too late the solicitor became aware of the presence
of the servants, of the horrified shock with which they were
staring at him.

He had just insulted the Countess of
Stonecliff, his employer’s precious bride.

“I... I beg pardon.” He shoved his
spectacles up onto his nose with fingers that visibly trembled. He
stared from Ethan to the servants and back to Ethan again with
deepening red color splotching across his face as Perkins dashed
forward and scooped up the fallen fan, presenting it to the
Countess with a bow.

“My dear Countess, I, uh...” Latherby seemed
to be choking out the words. “Forgive me, I was, er, only concerned
that you not hurt yourself.”

“It’s quite all right,” Josie managed to say
with a weak smile. She bestowed a stronger one on Perkins as she
accepted the fan in trembling fingers. “Don’t give it another
thought.”

Ethan set her down and turned toward
Latherby. “Your services are no longer required in this house.”

“What? My lord... I beg you...”

“You are to leave at once.” Ethan flicked a
glance at Rupert, the taller of the two footmen. “Bring another
carriage to the door for Mr. Latherby. My wife and I will be
leaving for Lady Tattersall’s directly—tell Charles to walk the
horses while he waits. I need a few words with Mr. Latherby before
he departs.”

Taking Josie’s arm, Ethan took her into the
library. Latherby followed, head bowed, well aware of the three
servants’ stunned and disapproving gazes that bored into his
retreating back.

No sooner did he close the library door than
the solicitor began to speak. “My lord, I didn’t notice them
standing in the hall. I didn’t think.”

“That’s right, you didn’t think. There’s no
way you can stay here now, after insulting my ‘Countess.’ And you.”
Ethan turned to Josie. Glowering, he studied her, his gaze raking
her from head to toe. “You were doing just fine until you let
yourself get sidetracked. You even had me fooled—almost. It’s that
dress, I reckon. Makes you look downright respectable.”

Respectable? Was that the best he could do?
He made it sound as if she resembled a wrinkled, cherub-cheeked
preacher’s wife!

Beautiful,
was what she longed to
hear. Or
elegant.
Maybe
ravishing.
It didn’t matter
that
respectable
was what she was aiming for.

“You’re too kind.” Violet sparks began to
flash in the depths of her eyes. She arched her brows, regal as a
duchess. “I’m overwhelmed by such flattery.”

Ethan fought back a grin. Wasn’t that just
like a woman to take a compliment the wrong way? Those adorable
lips were actually pouting.

“Josephine,” Mr. Latherby cut in
desperately. “Stop fiddling with your fan. I’ve told you time and
time again that ladies don’t—”

“Latherby, that’s enough!” Ethan glowered at
him, all of his amusement vanishing. “Damn it, man, you don’t let
up. Are you always this tough on her?”

“This tough on her? Whatever do you mean, my
lord? I’m only doing what you told me to do. You explicitly
instructed me—”

“You tell me,” Ethan commanded, swinging his
attention impatiently to Josie. “Does he treat you like this all
the time?”

Surprised, she weighed how to answer. Poor
Mr. Latherby was terribly critical, but he was only doing his best
to fulfill the job Ethan had given him. He was even now staring at
her beseechingly, as if begging her not to crush him any further in
the eyes of his employer.

“I guess I make a lot of mistakes,” she said
carefully, not meeting either man’s eyes.

She felt Ethan’s gaze resting on her
speculatively, and twitched a nervous hand across her skirt.

“The
lady
”—was it her imagination, or
did he emphasize the word—“is trying to protect you, Latherby.
Which is a hell of a lot more than you deserve.” He paced to the
window, then swung back, frowning at the solicitor. “So listen to
me. You’ve got to clear out. The servants here will know
something’s not right if I let someone who spoke so insultingly to
my wife stay under my roof—and in my employ. So from now on you’ll
work for me from London.”

“But—but—she’s not ready. I can’t be
responsible—”

“I’ll be responsible.” Ethan cut him off.
“Go to London, tell Grismore my wife and I will receive him in town
next week. And get my town house ready for our arrival. We’ll be
coming up tomorrow.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Does my father—
did
my father keep a
separate staff for the Stonecliff House?”

“Oh, yes. Stonecliff House is completely
staffed. But your lordship, who’s going to help this girl—er, Lady
Stonecliff?” Latherby put in anxiously.

Josie had been wondering the same thing.

“Let me worry about that.” Ethan waved a
hand at Latherby. “Get going. Josie and I have to get along to Lady
Tattersall’s dinner party before the other guests drop dead of
starvation waiting for us.”

Lucas Latherby bowed his head. “I’m sorry,”
he uttered in a resigned tone. “I was only trying to help.
Josephine,” he said, shaking his head as Josie regarded him
expectantly, “don’t ever look down at your feet while you’re
walking down the stairs.”

“I know that,” she grated out.

“Then why did you do it?”

“I just forgot... because Ethan and Perkins
and Rupert and that other footman were all staring at me and I
thought my shoes were untied or something else was wrong—”

“They were staring at you, no doubt for an
entirely different reason!” Latherby snapped. “Now, I thought you
were a sensible girl at least, if not a true lady, but if you’re
going to act like a witless goose, it’ll never serve. See that you
do everything Lord Stonecliff tells you to do. And
observe
the ladies you’ll meet tonight—they will be your best teachers.
Behave exactly as they do. And don’t say damn or hell or—”

“Latherby, shut up!” Ethan interrupted,
staring back and forth between the two of them in amazement. “You
can’t stuff a lifetime’s worth of knowledge into her head in the
space of a minute, and you’re just going to confuse her.”

“I’m not confused,” Josie snapped, gripping
her fan more tightly because her palms were beginning to sweat.
“I’m nervous. Let’s just go. And get it over with.”

Ethan jerked a thumb toward the door. “You
heard the lady.”

“That’s the problem, my lord,” Latherby
fretted as he moved reluctantly to the library door. “She’s not yet
a lady, and I don’t know if she’ll ever be one.”

“From now on, that’s my problem,” Ethan
growled. “I’ll see you in town.”

When the door finally closed behind the
solicitor, Josie began to pace around and around the walnut-paneled
room, suddenly overcome by an urge to delay the ordeal of the
party.

“This won’t work,” Ethan remarked
suddenly.

“What?” She stopped short, staring at him.
“I mean... I beg your pardon,” she added in frustration.

“This won’t work,” he repeated. “The way you
look...”

Her heart sank. So it was obvious even with
the dress, the fan, the gloves, the fancy shoes, the upswept hair,
that she was only an orphan who’d done odd jobs all her life and
struggled to get by, not a fine lady. If he could tell, so could
everyone else.

“Give me a chance,” she exclaimed. “I’ll
change my dress... something fancier, I’ll stand straighter,
I’ll—”

“It’s not you.” He snagged her wrist as she
tried to rush past him toward the door. He held her still. “It’s
this.”

With his finger he traced an invisible arc
across her throat.

Not understanding, Josie lifted wide,
questioning eyes to his.

“And this,” he added, lightly pinching the
bottom of her ear as he tried not to drown in the ocean blueness of
those magnificent eyes. “And this.”