Just This Once (25 page)

Miss Crenshaw blanched. Miss Perry turned
ashen. And from the sofa, Lady Tattersall gave a gasping, choking
cough.

Miss Crenshaw didn’t answer. At least not in
words. But the icy fury in her eyes spoke volumes as she drew
herself up very straight and marched from the room.

The sizzling tension left with her, but an
atmosphere of stunned horror remained. Miss Perry threw Josie an
anguished glance before scurrying after her charge. And before
Josie could think of a way to apologize for her behavior, Lady
Tattersall, too, rose to her feet, nearly dropping her fan in her
haste.

“I must be going, my dear. So sorry... will
see you in London no doubt... going to town at the end of the
week... good day to you.”

She was gone before Josie could even nod.
Josie sank dazedly down upon the sofa.

What have I done? Dear heaven, what have I
done?

The answer was all too obvious. She’d ruined
everything.
Everything.
Losing her temper, speaking to Miss
Crenshaw that way, shocking everyone...

Miss Crenshaw would no doubt rush back to
London and tell everyone that the Earl of Stonecliff’s bride was an
ill-mannered witch, not a lady at all. And when Lady Tattersall
arrived, she would have to confirm it.

Pressing her hands to her cheeks, Josie
remembered what Winthrop had hinted at yesterday. That Ethan would
have difficulty being accepted and received in society because of
what had happened in the past. And now his “wife,” the one who was
supposed to convince all of London, and in particular Mr. Grismore,
that she was a lady, and help pave the way for his return, had
demonstrated clearly that she was not a lady, but a shrew.

But Miss Crenshaw deserved it, she thought
in despair.

Yet she knew that didn’t change what she’d
done. Everything was spoiled. Mr. Latherby had made it clear that a
lady never displayed her temper or spoke rudely under any
circumstances. And Miss Crenshaw’s rudeness would not matter—she
wasn’t the one with something to prove.

Josie jumped up to stare sightlessly around
the pretty, airy room.
Mr. Grismore will hear of it,
she
realized, and felt sick to her stomach.
He’ll decide that you’re
not what Ethan’s father would consider a lady, and Ethan will lose
Stonecliff Park, and all his money and everything that ought to be
his.

She cried out in frustration, unable to bear
the scenario unraveling before her mind’s eye.

With a choked cry she raced across the
drawing room, threw open the French doors, and rushed out into the
gardens.

She needed to run, to flee the oppressive
thoughts circling through her brain. Golden sun beat down upon her
shoulders and her heavy brown curls as she bolted past the hedges
and rose gardens, the neat formal borders and gushing fountains,
and gained the stretch of flowing emerald lawn.

Her heart pounding, she kept on. She flew
past chestnut trees and orchards, past stands of silver birch and
pines, across a meadow that sloped toward the pond, where water
lilies floated. At last her breath began to burst through her lungs
in painful gasps, catching in her throat. Her steps slowed and she
struggled to ease the aching in her sides.

She found herself in a fragrant green
clearing that might have been an enchanted spot from a storybook,
and slowed to a walk. But though she longed to throw herself down
upon the grass and weep, she couldn’t seem to stop moving. Driven,
though more slowly now, she came out suddenly through a grove of
trees and saw a stream glinting blue and silver in the sun, and a
man fishing from the velvet bank that curved alongside it.

In surprise, she stopped dead and stared at
him.

He lifted a hand. “Morning, my lady.”

“Good morning.”

She studied him as she approached. He wore
old clothes, somewhat baggy and shabby in appearance, but his face
with its gray whiskers was scrubbed clean. It was a ruddy, pleasant
face, and there was a friendly twinkle in his brown eyes that
reminded her a bit of Pop Watson and the way he would wink at her
when Miz Dunner was being especially grumpy and particular about
chores.

“So you’re the Countess,” the man said, and
she realized that despite his smiles and twinkles, he was
appraising her as carefully as she was appraising him.

“For the time being.” Immediately Josie
wished she could stuff the words back into her mouth. “I mean—oh,
damn it—I mean—my gracious, I’m not myself today. You must forgive
me, Mister...”

“You can just call me Ham, my lady. And
there’s no need to apologize. Knowing Ethan as I do, I’ve seen how
the lad can addle anyone’s brains, even a fine and sensible lady
like yourself.”

“You know Ethan?”

“Aye, as well as I know this land all the
way from the park and the lane to the bracken at its farthest
boundary. I once was the earl’s head groom, back in the days when
your Ethan was a boy.”

“I see.” Josie settled down upon a fallen
log and pushed her hair out of her eyes. The chignon had come loose
during her wild run, and half the pins must have scattered across
the lawns and gardens. She plucked the few remaining ones from the
coil and let it all spill down, knowing she must look a scraggly
sight, but too hot, tired, and curious about Ham to care. “You
don’t work at Stonecliff Park anymore?”

“No, my lady. I’ve a small farm on the
outskirts, not far from here. Took it over from one of the old
earl’s tenants with wages I saved up over the years. You see, I
quit my position at Stonecliff Park the night young Ethan left
London. I left too and found me a job on the London docks. Didn’t
fancy working for the earl anymore after that night.”

“What in the world happened that night?”
Josie cried, gazing at him with mingled frustration and
fascination. She felt the hot color filling her cheeks. How
pathetic to be questioning a former servant this way, but she had
to know. Everyone else in England seemed to know!

“Have you asked the boy?”

“Yon mean Ethan? No, I can’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he won’t answer me. At least, I
don’t think he will. And besides, I don’t want to hurt him,” she
said slowly, knowing that this was the true reason. “Whatever
happened between him and his father—and his brother, too—was
painful to him. Deeply painful. And I’m afraid that bringing it all
up again will only hurt him, remind him....”

“Ah, so you care about him, lass.”

Though softly spoken, the words were a
statement, not a question. Ham’s eyes were fixed upon her with rapt
attention.

“Don’t tell him that or he’ll bite your head
off,” she muttered, and again was immediately horrified by her own
careless honesty.

“I mean, of course I do. He’s my husband
and—”

“It’s all right, lass.” The groom chuckled.
“I know all about the circumstances. Ethan told me himself. I know
why he married you, and why you married him.”

She went very still. “He told you—about
Abilene?” she asked with a jolt of shock.

Calmly, he nodded.

So he knew. Knew she was a thief, a dance
hall girl, a nobody. Josie plucked a handful of grass and crushed
the blades between her fingers.

“Who are you?” she asked again. “Not your
name, but who? Who are you for him to trust you so much? It seems
to me that he trusts few people, and confides in even fewer.”

“Aye, that’s Ethan.” A small grin twisted
Ham’s mouth and he nodded approvingly at her, though there was a
hint of sadness in his eyes. “I’ve known him since he was a wee
lad. Abandoned him they did, that father of his, and his own
brother, Master Hugh. Paid him almost no heed at all—too busy they
were, to bother with a child. He took to following me about, and
you might say, my lady, that we became like family. I was most
likely the closest thing to family he’s ever known.”

She heard pity and sorrow in his tone. And
remembered what he’d said: he’d left Stonecliff Park the night
Ethan had quarreled with his father and fled London.

“You care for him, too, Ham?” There was hope
in her tone. “I’m glad. So glad.” Josie scrambled to her feet,
tossing down the fistful of crushed grass. “I’m glad that back
then—and now—he has someone around him who cares.”

“And what about you, my lady? He has you
now, doesn’t he? And you care.”

“Yes, I care,” she said tremblingly.
“But...”

She hesitated, then surged on. The man knew
the situation, after all. There was no reason to hold back. “I’ve
done something terrible. Something awful. I’ve ruined our plan. You
know about the plan?”

He nodded, and set his fishing pole down
upon the bank. “Aye, that I do.”

“Well, it’s going to fail now. I’ve done
something... said something—” She broke off, despair rushing
through her again, filling her with a hopeless sorrow that blocked
the words.

Ham stared at the willowy beauty whose
glorious violet eyes shimmered with tears. “Tell me, lass,” he
urged gently.

And then from behind her came a voice that
scraped through the clearing like rock across glass.

“Tell me, too, angel.” Ethan glowered from
beneath a tree, his mouth curled mockingly. Despite the sunlight
slanting through the clearing, touching her with its golden warmth,
Josie was chilled by the icy silver of his eyes.

Before she could move, he strode forward,
tall and handsome in his riding clothes, his gait long and smooth
and quick as a cougar’s.

“What has my contrary little bride done
now?”

H
am broke the long,
thin silence. “Aha. Seems to me I’d best be going.”

He picked up the fishing pole and sent Ethan
a glance from between furrowed brows.

“Now, lad, whatever trouble there is—”

“I will deal with it.” Ethan’s cold gaze
stayed on Josie’s face.

“Well... easy, lad. I taught you that
oftentimes wild things need gentling, remember that?” When Ethan
didn’t answer, the groom moved off with a quick, bracing nod at
Josie. His footsteps rustled in the grass and faded away when he
disappeared beyond a thicket of bracken.

Wild thing. That’s exactly what she looked
like, Ethan thought, tension twisting through him as he studied the
beauty facing him. Gold glimmered in her hair as it streamed in a
frenzied cascade around her shoulders, and he longed to touch it,
to bury his face in it. She looked half angel, half hellion
standing there, slender as a reed, with her eyes glowing defiantly
at him. Their color would put the finest sapphires to shame, but it
wasn’t only their brilliance that drew him—it was the depths of
emotion that shone within. Much as she tried to hide it, they
mirrored her thoughts—thoughts that were troubled right now.
Troubled and guilty—and worried.

She looked very nearly as distressed as she
had back in that Abilene alley, when he’d taken pity on her and let
her go. When she’d thanked him by picking his pocket for the second
time in a day, he reminded himself.

Don’t be fooled by her again.
It was
far too easy to be taken in by such large, anxious eyes and
trembling lips.

“ ’Fess up. What’s happened?”

“You won’t like it.”

She forced herself to stand perfectly still
as he studied her on that lovely green bank with the stream
gurgling at her back.

A part of her wished she could lie to him
and escape his anger with a clever, believable story—she’d learned
to do that while growing up, and though it went against her
forthright nature, it had been partly responsible for her survival.
Yet even as the temptation flitted through her mind, she knew it
would only delay things. Ethan would find out the truth of her
blunders soon enough.

Though he didn’t touch her, she felt
trapped. They were alone but for the drenching sunshine, the
twitter of birds. Stonecliff Park, the house, stables, servants,
were a long way off, and here there were only ancient trees, quiet,
the sweep of land and wild flowers. And Ethan Savage, handsome as
sin.

“If it’s that bad, you’d better get it over
with.”

“You’ll be angry.” Her eyes flashed. “I know
I shouldn’t have done it, but she had it coming. Only now all of
London will know that I’m far from being a perfect, mushmouthed,
prim and proper lady.”

“You’re stalling, my love.”

He said the words lightly, coolly, but the
sound of them on his lips brought heat flooding to her cheeks.
He’s mocking you. My love. It’s a turn of phrase,
she told
herself and she tilted her head up to meet his eyes. Keen and
hawklike, they regarded her from beneath those dark slanting brows,
seeming to pierce right through her. Some unseen force grabbed her
by the throat and squeezed tight, making breathing difficult. Why
did this always happen when he was near?

Tell him and be done with it! “I insulted
Rosamund Crenshaw.”