Just This Once (29 page)

“Yes,” Josie murmured, pasting what she
hoped was a tranquil smile on her face even as her heart was
breaking. “I’m lucky indeed.”

She cast frantically about in her mind for
another subject. She didn’t trust herself to speak another word
about Molly, or that night when Ethan had made clear to everyone
just how much she’d meant to him.

Fortunately, at that moment, she remembered
something else she hadn’t yet had the chance to ask Miss Perry.

“There’s a young lady who traveled in
America recently,” she said, using the same words she’d voiced
nearly a dozen times in the past week when broaching the subject at
parties, the theatre, or while riding in Rotten Row. “And I would
dearly like to find her again. Her name is Miss Alicia Denby.” She
held her breath and watched Miss Perry’s face. “Do you know
her?”

To her disappointment, the other woman shook
her head. Just as all the others she’d asked had done. “No, I’m
afraid not. But then I don’t know nearly as many people, my lady,
as Rosamund or Lady Tattersall. Indeed, Lady Tattersall knows
everyone! Have you asked her?”

“Not yet.” Trying to hide her
disappointment, Josie explained. “She just arrived in London, and I
haven’t seen her yet—not since that afternoon at Stonecliff Park.
But I’ll ask her tonight at the Cartwright ball.”

“If anyone knows Miss Denby, it will be Lady
Tattersall,” Miss Perry assured her, and rose to take her
leave.

“You’ll be attending the ball tonight, Miss
Perry?”

Within Miss Perry’s doll-like face, her rich
brown eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes, the Crenshaws are all going, and
I’ve been kindly included in their party. I understand that Colonel
Hamring will be there, too. His first outing since his injury.”
Miss Perry blushed. “He has been kind enough to call on me, to
thank me for caring for him that night.”

“Has he?” Josie studied her intently, noting
the high color rushing into her dainty cheeks.

“Well, that seems only right,” she pointed
out. “Your concern and care for him that terrible night was
admirable.”

“No, no, it was the Colonel’s actions that
were admirable. He risked his life. I never saw anything as brave
as what he and your dear husband did that night.”

“And he is a fine-looking man, too,” Josie
added, nearly chuckling with delight as Miss Perry’s eyes seemed to
glisten.

“Yes, quite handsome,” she admitted, and the
pink color in her cheeks deepened.

“I must be going,” she said suddenly, and
reached for her handbag. Her usually steady fingers were trembling
a bit as she clutched it. “I’ve just realized I have no idea what
I’m going to wear this evening.”

“Whatever you choose, I’m sure Colonel
Hamring will find it most becoming.” Josie didn’t know what devil
made her say that, but Miss Perry, though she turned red as an
apple, only sighed.

“I daresay he’ll scarcely notice. I seem to
recall in the past he has occupied himself in the gaming rooms,
playing cards with the gentlemen, and rarely dancing. He probably
won’t even realize I’m there. And he certainly wouldn’t bother
himself over me if he did. Not that I would wish him to,” she added
hastily.

“Of course not.” But
we’ll just see about
that
is what Josie was actually thinking as she watched Miss
Perry go down the steps and turn up the street with a wave.

As she went upstairs and along the corridor
to her own bedroom, Josie tried to concentrate on the possibility
of a romance between Miss Perry and Colonel Hamring, and what she
could do to further it. It was a much more pleasant topic than the
other one she kept having to block from her mind: Ethan’s
overwhelming love for Molly. His pain at her death, and during the
years following it. The ache he must feel for her, which no doubt
was stronger now that he had come home to England where they’d met
and loved.

Why
had
he come home?

It wasn’t for the money. Josie knew that as
well as she knew how to lace her shoes. She’d seen Ethan’s torment
that night he’d heard from Latherby about his father’s will, when
he’d gotten himself roaring drunk and forced her to marry him. He
hadn’t been a happy man—ecstatic over an inheritance. He’d been
tortured, driven, enraged.

What had he said that first night in her
bedroom at Stonecliff Park?
They’re depending on me. Every
person you met tonight is depending on me. All those servants, and
the tenants besides... If not... I’d never willingly set foot on
this damned British soil again.
”

Something about this sense of duty, this
owning up to his obligations, touched her more deeply even than his
courage against Pirate Pete and Tiny. The only other person she’d
ever deeply cared for was Pop Watson, and Pop, for all his good
qualities, had never owned up to much responsibility. But Ethan
hadn’t tried to escape his. Despite the cost to himself, despite
the fact that he’d vowed before all of London society never to
return, when duty had summoned him, he’d answered. He’d returned to
face one and all. That took a rare courage.

I’ve never had a real home,
Josie
thought as she closed the door of her dusky-pink and cream room.
I’ve never had an attachment to a place, a spot where I
mattered, where I couldn’t just up and leave, and no one would much
notice or care if I never came back.

A place where I belonged.

But Ethan did. He belonged here in England.
He belonged at Stonecliff Park. Deep down, whether he knew it or
not, he was rooted to this lovely green land, rooted to Stonecliff
Park, rooted to all those attached to it and who were dependent on
him.

Rooted in a way she could never be to
anything—or, she thought on a small sob of despair—to anyone.

Don’t get attached,
she warned
herself as she paced to the window and stared down past the gate
into the quiet, tree-shaded street.
To Ethan or to Stonecliff
Park, or to this beautiful, comfortable house. They’re not yours,
they were never yours. It’s only for a few months.

Loneliness engulfed her then in quick,
drowning waves. And with it came a quiet grief. As the sun dipped
lower in the sky and the shadows lengthened and began to fall, she
stood at the window and shook with silent sobs.

M
y congratulations,
Josephine—er, my lady.” Lucas Latherby pushed his spectacles up on
his nose as Ethan stood aside so that she could join them in the
library.

“You have done it. You look precisely,
without a doubt, like a lady. The transformation is...
awe-inspiring. Your hair—why, every strand is perfectly in place.
Your carriage, excellent. Even the demure expression upon your
face—”

“Enough, Latherby,” Ethan interrupted
irritably as Josie came forward and he closed the library door.
“She’s been dissected by you quite enough for a lifetime.”

He studied her, though, as she accepted the
goblet of brandy he offered her and took a dainty sip. Lord, she
was an incredible sight. A vision in a glimmering beaded evening
gown of midnight blue, her skin glowing like rich pale cream
against it. Her eyes glowed nearly the same shade as the dramatic
hues of the gown. And around her throat were the Marsdale pearls,
passed down through his mother’s family for generations.

She had not yet drawn on her gloves, and he
found himself staring at the gold ring on her finger. Latherby’s
ring, he remembered now, and suddenly felt uncomfortable. As if it
were months ago and not merely weeks, he found himself remembering
how adverse he’d been to slipping his grandfather’s ring onto her
finger the night of their wedding. Now he felt a twinge of
resentment about her wearing as a wedding band a ring that belonged
to Latherby.

He was toying with the idea of having her
take it off and put on the emerald ring here and now. The thought
gave him pleasure. He didn’t know why. But then he noticed that
there were pale lavender shadows beneath her lovely eyes. Her
fine-boned face looked pinched and tense, despite the smile she
bestowed on Latherby over her brandy goblet, and Ethan forgot
everything else.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, studying her
with penetrating hawk’s eyes as she turned her carefully neutral
gaze upon him.

“Why should anything be wrong?”

He didn’t know. He only knew that the easy
smile wasn’t in her eyes. The lilt had vanished from her voice.
What in hell had happened to take all the sparkle out of her?

“Did you hurt yourself this afternoon when
you threw yourself in the way of that damned carriage?” He stalked
toward her and gripped her wrist so she couldn’t turn away. His
eyes inspected her, searching for a bruise, but all of her white
exposed skin, from her throat down to the lush expanse of bosom
displayed by the low-cut gown, was sumptuous perfection.

“No, of course not. I’m tired, Ethan. That’s
all.”

He didn’t believe it for a moment, but he
wasn’t about to call her a liar in front of Latherby. Beneath his
thumb, he felt her pulse throbbing, and still watching her eyes, he
began to stroke her wrist with his thumb, very gently holding it,
brushing his thumb back and forth lightly across her delicate
skin.

“Latherby came by to tell me that Grismore
is most eager to make your acquaintance and settle the terms of the
will.”

“Oh.” Josie felt electricity jolt through
her as Ethan’s thumb flicked back and forth across her wrist. The
gaslight globes in the library hissed softly as she fought to think
clearly, to keep her emotions under tight control.

Her pulse raced faster. The knowledge of his
deep and indelible love for Molly rested heavily upon her
shoulders. If she didn’t want to make a complete fool of herself,
she must keep her feelings for him hidden deep inside her soul.

“So,” she asked as steadily as she could
beneath that steely gaze, and with her wrist captured by his hand,
“when is the inspection to be held?”

That surprised a grin from him. “Inspection?
You make it sound like you’re a horse I’m planning to buy.”

“No—more like the horse you’ve already
bought.” The words were out before she realized just how inelegant
they sounded. She threw a mortified glance at Latherby, bracing
herself for a reproof.

But that gentleman had been observing with
acute shrewdness the way the Earl of Stonecliff was gazing at his
dance hall bride. Was that...
could
there be tenderness in
the Earl’s eyes?

Where was the coldness? The anger, the
sarcasm?

He saw warmth, amusement, interest. And
admiration. His thoughts spun, but he had the wit to hold his
tongue as he turned to the Countess.

“The interview will be held next Tuesday, if
that is convenient for you and his lordship, my lady.”

“My lady? Come now, Mr. Latherby, since when
have we been on such formal terms?” A more natural laugh sprang to
Josie’s lips, and a pretty spark entered her eyes. “It’s only
me—your same old clumsy Josie.”

“You are quite transformed, my lady. I am
nearly speechless!”

“You?” Now Josie did laugh, a delightful
musical sound that warmed Ethan’s heart inexplicably and seemed to
mellow and soften all the austere masculine shadows of the
room.

“Latherby also came by to tell me that he
believes the police have several new leads concerning Pirate Pete
and his cohorts. They last robbed a house in Belgravia, and there
are rumors that they’ve been seen at some of the public houses near
the gasworks. Other witnesses have placed them at an inn as far
away as Tunbridge Wells. The landlord’s being questioned. But at
any rate, the police are hunting them with a vengeance, and they
ought to be in custody soon. So you don’t have to worry.”

She took another sip of brandy and shook her
head. “I’m not worried. Do I
look
worried?”

She did, but not about that, Ethan guessed.
Yet he was relieved to hear the lighter note in her voice and hoped
it meant her troubles were lifting. Whatever they might be.

“If anything,” Josie continued, arching an
eyebrow, “I’m worried that we’ll be late for the party and insult
Lady Cartwright.” She smiled then, that wonderful smile, and Ethan
felt aching tension ripple through him. He had an enchanting view
of lush, slightly parted lips.

“Did you know that she works tirelessly on
behalf of the new foundling home? We had a conversation about it at
the races just the other day. I offered to help her,” she added,
half challengingly, as if wondering how he would react to this
announcement.

“Suit yourself.” Ethan knew that whatever
Josie and Lady Cartwright and the other ladies of London who were
so inclined might do to aid the poor orphaned children of the
rookeries could hardly make a dent in their troubles, but every bit
would help. He’d already made arrangements for some of his newly
inherited wealth to go toward bettering some of the conditions of
the slums—squalid, brutal conditions that bred criminals like
Pirate Pete, Lucian, and Tiny, and many others not so bold or
vicious, but equally as desperate. The difference between the rich
and middle classes, and those of the poorer working classes, was
staggering and pathetic. In his years as a gunfighter, there’d been
many times when he’d tried to use his gun to help and protect those
who were too weak to protect themselves—now he had the means to
help those who were weak and vulnerable in a different sort of
way.