The Promise (21 page)

Finn’s feigned nonchalance didn’t fool her one bit. The pulse in his throat hammered like he had just outrun a pack of wolves, while his hair looked like they had caught him. His hands were unsteady and he pretended interest in non-existent bits of lint on his sleeve while he studiously avoided her eyes.

“I did not mean to interrupt,” Justine said casually.

“You’re interrupting nothing,” Jane blurted a little too forcefully as she stepped into the hallway. Good sense and mortification propelled her to seize the opportunity for escape. Finn had no choice but to follow. He stopped at the door, leaned against the jamb, and thrust his hands deep into his pockets as if to wait his mother out.

“I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable in your room, Jane. Does it please you? Do you need anything, dear?”

To Jane’s chagrin, a girlish and somewhat hysterical giggle bubbled up and spilled out. “What a coincidence! Lord Wallace just stopped by to ask how I liked the room and I assured him that I like it quite well. It is a handsome chamber, I mean a handsome chamber,” she giggled again, “and the bed looks very comfortable. I can’t wait to try it out.” She turned to Finn, grabbed his elbow, and all but pulled him further into the hall. “You were just leaving, were you not, my lord?”

Finn’s rueful grin conceded defeat. “It appears I am.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of hot chocolate or warm milk?” Justine asked, her eyes dancing with amusement at her son’s unceremonious eviction. A devilish impulse made her add, “Finn could bring it up to you.”

“No, thank you!” Jane almost shouted. “A solid night’s rest is the only thing I need right now… the
only
thing. Goodnight, Your Grace,” she said then turned to Finn, making the briefest eye contact. “Goodnight, Finn.” She sketched a quick curtsey and turned away.

“Goodnight, Jane,” Finn said to her back as she slipped into her room and shut the door. The metallic rasp of a turning lock sounded loud in the hall.

Chapter Fifteen

“She what?” Tom ground out between tobacco-stained teeth.

“Married,” Harry repeated the seminal word. “You know… tied the knot, got hitched, took the plunge. The
Times
just received the announcement.  I figured you’d want to know straight away,” he said, shuffling around the library. Expensive little whatnots were placed randomly between leather-bound books.

A monumental waste of money
, Harry thought resentfully. He hefted a large geode sliced in half to expose the sparkling purple crystals inside.

“African?”

“How the fuck would I know?” Tom glared. “Don’t even know what the damn thing is, let alone where it came from.”

Harry chuckled and put it down. An array of decanters arrested his attention. “May I?” Without waiting for a response, he poured himself a glass of brandy.

“You were supposed to keep me apprised of the situation,” Tom caviled.

Harry took a sip and studied the petulant, bloated aristocrat over the rim of his glass. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

Gossip in the coffee houses and clubs held that Lord Wallace’s bride was Lady Jane Gray, a noblewoman of impressive pedigree who had been working as a baker for years. A quick glance at Debrett’s had confirmed that Clovershire was her cousin. Why she had been working in Sugarmann’s Bakery instead of living under his protection was a mystery Harry intended to solve. The child’s parentage was another. Obviously the earl played a central role in the unfolding drama. Harry intended to find out what that role entailed. His little story was getting better and better.

“It would have been nice to know
before
the ceremony,” Tom grumbled.

“Your cousin didn’t send you an invitation?” Harry asked innocently, watching closely for Clovershire’s reaction.

“Why’d you think she’s m’cousin?” Tom asked evasively.

“Isn’t she?”

Tom frowned. He wasn’t sure how to answer because a split second after he learned Jane had wed Lord Wallace, he knew exactly what he must do. With her marriage, she had ceased to be his ward; her lord husband now controlled Jane’s assets. His funds would soon be cut off, if they weren’t already.

That was unacceptable.

Tom wasn’t certain what, if anything, Jane would tell her new husband about him.  In legal terms, any allegations she made against him came down to her word against his. And what woman would want the world to know her cousin had threatened to rape her until she was with child so she would be forced to marry him? It wasn’t just dirty laundry — it was monstrously filthy laundry. In the end it would be impossible to prove and far more damaging to her. He was counting on her reticence. If he acted quickly enough, it would be a moot point anyway. There was really no down side to admitting the connection.

Tom smiled. “You’ve discovered m’secret. Cousin Jane and I have been estranged for some time, but I hope to mend fences soon.”

“I see,” Harry said. “Did I mention there’s a child?”

Christ!
It kept going from bad to worse.

“What do you mean a child? Is she increasing already? How can that be? I thought you said they only just recently met.”

“Never said that. The brat’s about five. Look’s like she might be Lord Wallace’s bastard. Don’t know yet for sure.”

Tom’s hands closed into fists. Everything was spinning out of control. He had only involved Barnes because it looked like Jane would end up on a scaffold and he wanted to know when he could begin celebrating. He had been a fool to invite a man who made his living nosing around in other people’s business to nose around in his. Barnes would have to die, too.

Harry smiled. A predator could always sniff out his own kind. He read Tom’s thoughts as easily as if they had been written on a page.

“Just so you know, if anything happens to me, there are several other reporters working on the story and my editor knows you contacted me.”

Tom actually growled.

Harry tossed back the rest of his brandy and set the empty glass down.

“Time to skedaddle.”

After Harry was gone, Tom had a good long think. His recent forays into the stews had brought him into contact with some right rough characters. One in particular stood out in his mind. Jane and her groom would have to meet with an accident soon. The child, too. Tom’s soul was already forfeit, what difference did a few more murders make?

IT HAD TAKEN JANE a long time to fall asleep. She was twenty-four years old and other than a peck here and there, Finn had been the first man to kiss her.
And oh, what a kiss it had been!
An honest-to-goodness, torrid, toe-curling, heart-pounding kiss. None of her girlhood fantasies, or womanly ones for that matter, had anticipated how thrilling and elemental a simple kiss could be.

But it had been more than a simple kiss. Finn had touched her places no man had ever touched her, places she did not even touch herself! Jane’s face blazed when she remembered how his caresses had summoned strange new yearnings in her. The knowledge that she had allowed him — no,
encouraged
him — to do those things, made her cheeks flame. Would he think her behavior wanton? Would he suspect she had done those things with other men before him?

She awoke early, her body still on the old schedule, and dressed in one of her worn brown skirts and a white blouse. The clothing was no longer appropriate for her station, but until Madame Fournier delivered some new gowns, she didn’t have another option. She laughed at the notion of eating breakfast in her wedding gown.

The grandfather clock on the landing ticked away the minutes as she made her way down to the kitchen to see if Mrs. Wilkins was making breakfast. If so, she would have a cup of coffee and a chat, perhaps even help prepare the food. She had become friendly with the cook.

When she reached the top of the stairs she heard the front door open and a familiar deep voice drifted up to her. She peaked over the railing and saw Finn handing his coat and hat to Peckham. His back was to her, but the butler looked up just as she spun on her heel and raced back to her room. She didn’t see Peckham’s worried frown or the subtle look of reproach he cast Finn’s way.

Jane shut the door quietly behind her and held her breath until she heard Finn make his way past her room. His footsteps halted momentarily outside her door, then continued. After several minutes, she checked to make sure the hall was empty before she once again made her way downstairs.

He had been out all night! Where had he gone? To visit his mistress? It would make sense, Jane supposed. She wasn’t completely naïve. When men were… worked up, as Finn had been, they needed relief. Didn’t they? She regretted making him leave her room. The idea of Finn seeking solace in another woman’s arms bothered her more than it should.

The incident forced her to confront some things she hadn’t considered until that moment. For the first time, she fully comprehended how little she knew about the man she had married. Even if they became intimate, there was a very good probability that he would continue to pursue other women at some point. The gossip pages were filled with stories of titled gentlemen and their light o’ loves. The keeping of mistresses was commonplace, even expected.

From what she could remember of her parents’ marriage, it had been a happy one, filled with affection and laughter. Jane lamented the knowledge that she might never know that type of bond, but she also realized that love matches were rare and her parents had been fortunate. Perhaps in time she and Finn would grow to love one another. They shared an attraction; they could build on that.

Completely absorbed in these troubling speculations, she almost bumped into Peckham.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully with a reasonable facsimile of a sunny, carefree smile. In truth Jane felt awkward in her newly elevated role. “You’re up early,” she observed.

“As are you, my lady. It will take some time for your body to become accustomed to a more leisurely schedule, I would imagine. The duchess usually does not rise before noon during the Season when entertainments run well into the night.”

“I see. That
will
take some getting used to,” Jane said. “I take it that Cook prepares a late breakfast then?”

“Not at all. His Grace often leaves the house early for Parliamentary sessions or to conduct business with his steward. Pip is an endless fountain of energy and more often than not she joins him. Neither is up quite this early, however,” he said apologetically. He didn’t address Finn’s normal schedule for obvious reasons.

“Hmm. Well then, I’ll join Cook in the kitchen and see if I can make myself useful. If she doesn’t chase me away with a wooden spoon, that is where I will be for the next hour or two. If Pip wakes up, please send her down,” Jane said.

“Yes, my lady,” Peckham bowed as she made her way to the kitchen stairs.

Jane startled several scullery maids and a groom when she sat down at one of the massive oak trestle tables.  The servants curtsied, bowed, and exchanged restrained greetings with the newest member of the Wallace family. Unsettled by the presence of their mistress at the servants’ table, they quickly finished their breakfast and excused themselves.

“Thank you,” Jane smiled at Mrs. Wilkins when she set a plate of food in front of her. “This smells divine!” she said.

If Mrs. Wilkins thought it strange that Lord Wallace’s new bride was sitting in her kitchen at the crack of dawn dining with the lower staff, she did not betray it. “Would you prefer coffee, tea, chocolate, or perhaps something else altogether?” she asked.

“Coffee sounds just the thing! What a treat” Jane answered. She loved coffee but it was expensive and therefore she seldom indulged. When the cook turned back to the stove, Jane looked at her overflowing plate with some dismay. It contained several rashers of bacon, scrambled eggs, freshly baked currant scones slathered with butter, sliced tomatoes, and braised mushrooms. Not wanting to give offense, she tucked away as much as she could.

“I am not used to being idle in the morning. I’d be happy to help with the baking. I could whip up some braided sweet bread or fruit pastries…” Jane suggested hopefully.

The cook looked over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “Thank you, my lady, but I have my duties well in hand. I fear the duchess would be less than happy if I encouraged you. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“I
enjoy
baking, Mrs. Wilkins. Surely there is nothing improper in that,” Jane said, perhaps a little too defensively.

“Be that as it may,” the cook sniffed.

Jane pushed the food around on her plate while the cook went about her work. A laughing maid tripped into the room but stopped when she saw Jane. Her smile disappeared and she dropped a curtsey before rushing from the kitchen. Jane felt like an unwanted intruder.

“Would you be more comfortable in the dining room?” Mrs. Wilkins phrased it like a question, but it was a request. The cook was polite, but far more formal than she had been during the first weeks after Pip had come to live at Carlisle House when the lines between her and the servants had been blurred.

She stood with her coffee in hand and turned to leave.

“Leave that, if you will,” Mrs. Wilkins instructed. “I wouldn’t want you to scald yourself. John will pour you a fresh cup upstairs.”

She trailed through the silent, slumbering house, meandering from salon to library, from portrait hall to ballroom to conservatory. She strolled through the garden, but quickly grew chilled in the early morning air. Finally she sat in the dining room where she watched the servants quietly go about their duties, waiting for someone, anyone, to rise and join her.

FINN FOUND JANE CURLED up asleep in one of the overstuffed reading chairs in the corner of the library. She looked so soft and appealing, he was tempted to scoop her in his arms and carry her upstairs. Remembering her reaction last night, he decided it would be wiser to take it slow, so he bent over and whispered, “Wake up sleeping beauty.”

She sighed and snuggled further into the chair.

“Shall we visit your father’s solicitor today?” Finn asked a little bit louder, his breath tickling her temple. He blew softly in her ear and she rubbed her cheek against the cushion.

“Married less than one day and she’s already ignoring me,” Finn sighed dramatically.

Jane awoke to find him looking at her with a bemused smile. She blinked several times as her mind recollected where she was and why. Carlisle House, not Sugarmann’s.
They were married.
She smiled. The handsome man looking down at her was her husband, she thought in wonderment.

How long had be been watching her?

“Awake now?”

She nodded.

“Shall we visit your father’s solicitor today?” he repeated.

“Now?”

“Have anything better to do?” Finn asked with his head cocked to one side. “We could combine it with a ride through the park. The weather is perfect.”

“Do we have an appointment?”