"It's early." Mr. Beaufort pointed out the window. Indeed the sun was peeking tiredly over the horizon.
"All the servants have been up for some time," Tommy said. He wore his footman's livery and was the only one of us fully clothed. Everyone else, including the only other servant in the room—Bollard—was dressed in nightclothes.
"Return to your rooms," Langley said to us all. "We'll speak at breakfast."
"But I have a great many questions," Mr. Culvert protested.
Langley looked uncertain, as if he were warring with himself over something. "I imagine you do. But they can wait until breakfast."
"But Mr. Langley—"
Mrs. Beaufort caught her brother-in-law's arm. "Come along, George."
He sighed and left to return to his room. The others also filed out. All except Jack. He stood by the window, his arms crossed over his chest. He was guarding me. My heart swelled and tears sprang to my eyes. I smiled at him and he blinked rapidly back, but there was no responding smile on his lips. I suspected his mood was much too dark for that.
"You too, Jack," Langley said.
"I'm not leaving her."
"Don't make me order you."
"I can't make you do anything, just as you cannot make me. I'm not leaving her, August, and that's final."
Langley wheeled himself across the floor to Jack. "You forget yourself," he said, voice low. "We have guests. What would they think if you remained here alone with Hannah?"
"That I am her protector. They would be correct in their assumption."
"You are also a man, and she a young woman. Leave her alone to dress, and then you can both go down to breakfast."
"No. I won't leave her for even a moment. He might come back."
"Go, Jack!"
"No." He didn't raise his voice, didn't infuse it with any steel, yet the word was spoken as if his remaining behind was a given. There was no possibility for argument because there was nothing to argue about. It was pure defiance.
"What do you think will happen, Mr. Langley?" I said, throwing my hands in the air. "We can't touch without setting off sparks! Nothing
can
happen. You know that."
Langley sighed. "Neither of you understand," he muttered. Before I could ask him what else there was to understand, he said, "Perhaps Samuel can—"
"No!" Jack growled.
"How would that make any difference?" I asked. "Isn't Samuel's presence in here alone with me as inappropriate as Jack's?"
Langley looked sideways at me, but didn't answer. His suggestion must have been a mistake on his part. He'd probably meant to say Mrs. Beaufort could chaperone while I dressed and her husband also remained to protect me.
What rot. There was no possibility those names could be mixed up, particularly by one of the sharpest minds in England. Surely Langley wasn't trying to push Samuel and me together?
"No one protects Hannah except me," Jack said. "I can save her. If I have to."
By using his fire.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. He'd already made it clear that he didn't want to use his fire on people. He'd once described the smell of burning flesh and the screams, although he'd not told us how and when he'd experienced those things. It sounded horrible, and I didn't want to force him to use his fire on Ham. Knowing that he would if he had to, however, made me feel more secure, albeit only a little bit more. Ham was still out there, as was Tate. My nerves would be on edge until they were locked up again. Or dead.
"Bollard, fetch the maid." Langley turned his chair around and crashed into a table. Bollard stepped forward to help, but Langley waved him off. "I said go!"
Bollard hesitated then left.
"Keep the door open until the maid arrives," Langley said to Jack. "I don't want Hannah's virtue compromised."
"He was willing to compromise it with Samuel," I muttered.
Jack watched him go with a heavy frown. "I don't understand him sometimes."
"I don't understand him ever."
I sat on the bed then flopped onto my back, suddenly utterly exhausted. I was hot too, despite not wearing anything other than a cotton nightdress. I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting to sleep.
"Hannah?"
I opened them again to see Jack standing by my bed. He sat down beside me, close but not touching. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm a little shaken," I admitted. "And tired."
"Rest for a while. I'll be here when you wake up." It was the nicest, kindest thing he could have said at that moment.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
***
He was indeed still there when I awoke. He lay beside me on his back, his hands clasped over his stomach. When I stirred, he sat up.
"Feeling better?" he asked.
"A little warm."
"Sorry." He got off the bed and went to the window. That's when I noticed Maud sitting in the armchair, mending one of Sylvia's jackets. Our chaperone.
Weak morning light chased away the shadows in the room and outside, clouds hung low. "How long have I been asleep?" I asked.
"An hour," Jack said. "You've had three visitors, all of whom I sent away." He was dressed in trousers and shirt, so I suspected one of those visitors had been Tommy with clothes. "Are you ready for breakfast?"
I got up and opened my wardrobe doors. I selected a dress, but not a jacket. Next I needed unmentionables. I bit my lip and glanced at Jack.
He lifted an eyebrow. "Everything all right?"
I twirled my finger. "Face the other way, please."
He blushed and dutifully turned to look out the window. I selected what I needed and Maud helped me dress. "Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort are lovely people," I said, making idle conversation. There was very little we could talk about with Maud in the room.
"Hmmm," Jack said.
I lifted my arms and Maud placed the corset around me. "I like Miss Moreau too."
"Yes." The word was a hiss from his lips.
"Mr. Culvert is a little odder than the others, but that could be because of his profession." A profession that I would not name in front of Maud.
When Jack didn't answer, I glanced over my shoulder at him. Our gazes connected in the reflection of the window glass. He'd been watching me the entire time. It was impossible to tell if he blushed, but his eyes widened upon being caught and he turned away quickly. My own face blazed like a torch.
Maud finished with the corset and fetched my dress from the bed. It gave me the opportunity to look at Jack again. His forehead rested on the window frame, and he gripped the sill with one hand.
I put on my dress with Maud's help and sat at my dressing table so she could do my hair. "You may turn around now, Jack."
He sat on the bed, and I watched him in the mirror's reflection, but this time he didn't seem to notice me looking. He was too intent on the back of my neck and hair. His eyes followed every movement of Maud's fingers as she pinned the curls high on my head. I recognized the hungry desire in his gaze, and felt it within myself, throbbing like a primal drumbeat. I loved how he watched me like that, with an intensity that made me feel like I was the most important thing in his world, that we were the only two people in the room. That nothing else mattered and everything would be all right.
My hair finished, Maud fixed a black ribbon around my throat. Jack licked his top lip and a bead of sweat trickled down his hairline.
"There," Maud said. "What do you think, Mr. Langley, sir?"
"She's beautiful," he murmured. His gaze finally connected with mine in the mirror. "Absolutely beautiful."
Not being able to touch him was awful. Until now. Now, it felt devastating. I ached to reach for him, kiss him, and feel his arms around me.
Maud cleared her throat. "Ready, Miss Smith?"
"Hmmm?"
"For breakfast."
"Yes. Of course." I tore my gaze away from Jack, but as I left the room, I could feel him still watching me. We walked down the corridor a little behind Maud, so she couldn't overhear us as we whispered.
"I'm sorry about my behavior earlier," Jack said. "I didn't meant to watch you."
"It's quite all right."
"No, it's not. But in my defense, a man can only be gentlemanly to a point."
I laughed. "Stop worrying. There was no harm done."
"Speak for yourself," he muttered. "I think I turned around too soon."
"Nonsense. There was only my hair left to do."
"I know. I found the event rather…" He coughed. "Nice."
"Nice?"
"Very well, not nice. Alluring. Enthralling." His voice had become velvet thick and deep, rumbling across the space between us and rolling over me. I could listen to him whisper words like that in my ear all day. I longed for it.
Maud turned a corner up ahead, and Jack stepped in front of me. Heat surrounded us and I felt like we were in a bubble, safe and together. He leaned closer, his mouth an inch from mine. His hooded gaze focused on me, searched my face, taking in every freckle.
"Hannah," he murmured.
One small movement and we would be kissing. That's all it would take. I wanted to. God, how I
needed
to.
"I want to unpin your hair," he went on, "and let it slide through my fingers. I want to kiss the nape of your neck, the hollow at your throat, your shoulder. I want to trace the curve of your spine, the flare of your hip. Slowly. So very, very slowly."
My skin tingled. My heart pulsed at every image he conjured with his soft, urgent words. It was as if he were doing all those things to me right there in the corridor with Maud just around the corner.
I felt like I was going to explode with the heat flowing through me. But I didn't care. I wanted to hear more. Wanted to feel his words sliding over me like melted chocolate.
"And then?" I murmured, my lips so close to his I could almost taste him.
"Then I'll kiss the arch of your foot, your ankle, and work up to your knee. I want to worship every inch of you. When you're quivering in my arms, I'll—"
"Miss Smith?"
We leapt apart as Maud peered round the corner. Her narrowed gaze left no doubt that she knew what we'd been doing. Or almost doing.
I followed her without looking at Jack as I passed him, although I could feel his heat and hear his ragged breathing. My nerves didn't stop tingling until we reached the dining room where breakfast was already underway. Everyone was there, including Langley. The conversations ceased as we entered.
"I fell asleep," I said.
Langley's gaze slid past me to Maud. There was no exchange of words between them, but I got the feeling something was conveyed before he dismissed her with a nod. Bollard was the only servant remaining since he was there to serve Langley. Everyone else served themselves from the selection of dishes on the sideboard.
"We were just going over the events of this morning," Mr. Beaufort said.
"I thought as much," I said, picking up a plate.
Mrs. Beaufort winced. "Was it that obvious?"
I smiled at her. "It's natural to want to talk about it. Don't stop on my account."
"What have you told them?" Jack asked his uncle.
"That Tate wants Hannah, and Hannah only."
"He also told us why," Mr. Beaufort said.
Mr. Culvert scrunched up his napkin and placed it on the table. "I must say, you kept that secret well. I wouldn't have known you were a, er, whatever it is you want to call yourself."
"Fire starter," I said with a shrug.
"We're considering naming the condition autoflamma," Sylvia said, her teacup paused at her lips. "That would make her an autoflammian I suppose."
"You can't mix the Greek and Latin," Mr. Culvert protested. He looked quite shocked at the thought. "What about egoflamma. Ego means self in Latin."
Sylvia screwed up her nose. "I don't particularly like the sound of it."
"I'm throwing my money behind something with neuro in it," Samuel said.
"You would say that."
Mr. Culvert's next comment was cut off by Mrs. Beaufort. "Perhaps we can leave the naming of her talent to another time."
"Talent?" I scoffed. "Hardly. Did Mr. Langley tell you I only do it when I'm angry? It's not a talent unless you can control it." There. That should put an end to such nonsense. There was no need to glorify it. "Like Jack can."
The room went quiet. Cutlery stilled. Sausages and eggs were forgotten. It would seem Jack hadn't been mentioned at all, only me. I looked to Langley for explanation, but received a frosty glare for my troubles. Why didn't he want them to know about Jack?
"Interesting," Mr. Culvert said, staring at Jack. "Tell me about it, if you don't mind."
Jack set his plate down on the table and sat. "There's nothing much to tell. I can start fires at will, Hannah can't, nor can Tate. It's something I've always been able to do."
"Why?" Mr. Beaufort asked.
Mr. Culvert leaned forward over his plate, smearing bacon grease on his jacket. "Yes, why?"
Jack shrugged. "Nobody knows."
Both Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort looked to Langley. He sat in his wheelchair, quietly chewing, and either didn't notice or pretended not to.
Mr. Culvert didn't notice either. "Is it connected to your speed?" he asked.
Jack slowly looked up from his plate. "Pardon?"
"Your speed. When you fought that man this morning, you were very fast."
"I suppose I'm a little faster than others."
"I can assure you," Culvert said, "you were much faster than the average man."
"Agreed," Samuel said.
Jack
was
incredibly fast and not just when he was throwing punches. I'd seen him exercising on the banks of the lake. He'd run between trees, reaching them in remarkably quick time. And when he swam, he could glide through the water like a fish.
Surely those skills were not connected to the fire?
Jack appeared quite shocked by Mr. Culvert's observation. His food sat forgotten, his knife and fork lay idle. Everyone stared at him. Everyone except Langley and Miss Moreau. She was watching me.
"Miss Smith?" she prompted. "Is there something else?"
I looked down at my plate. "Nothing."
"It's all right, Hannah," Jack said. "I want to hear what you have to say too."