“Then you shall move into the same house
with Bessie.”
Nicholas continued to talk to the young
girl, but Jane found herself concentrating on him while fighting
her own emotions. She had loved him before, but now—as she watched
his gentle and caring dealings with Sally—her affection for him
grew even greater.
When they worked their way back to the
carriage and climbed in, they took Sally with them. Whatever else
Nicholas had intended to show her, though, was put aside. Bessie,
it turned out, was not at the house ‘by the market,’ and as a
result Jane received a tour of several of a group of houses that
Nicholas, she learned, had created to shelter street children. It
was almost noon before they found the sister and settled Sally in
with people who would care for her.
When they finally returned to Nicholas’s
house on Leicester Square, it was early in the afternoon, and they
were told that Frances was visiting her friend Elizabeth and should
not be expected for dinner.
“Thank you for today,” Jane said under the
watchful gaze of the fierce looking steward. There were messages
waiting for Nicholas when they’d arrived.
“I have to see to a couple of
correspondences in the library,” Nicholas told her. “Why not try to
rest and come down and meet me there later…whenever you are
ready.”
She nodded and went to her room. Once
inside, though, resting was the last thing on her mind. This side
of Nicholas—the philanthropic part of him—had opened her eyes to
the rest of his character. For the first time, she thought, she
could really see him. Understand him. Much the same as she did,
Nicholas presented only one side of himself to society. His was an
attitude of a confirmed rake—sporting, independent, careless, and
self-centered. He was outspoken, arrogant, and openly disdainful of
the system that mandated how he should live his life. But in
private, he could pursue his own valuable interests without the
pressure of society’s constraints. His generosity was for the sake
of people in need and not contingent on the fashionably fickle
philanthropies of the
ton
.
It was through the people she had met in
their tour who she had learned today that Nicholas had established
so far nearly a dozen safe houses for children across London.
Standing before the window, she knew that
she admired him and loved him for the man that he was and couldn’t
wait to tell him so.
An hour was all that she was able to stay
away. Dressing in a soft yellow dress that she once again wondered
how Fey had managed to have made for her, Jane cast a final look at
herself in the mirror before going down. Of everything in the
trunk, this was the least conservative of the garments, and as she
descended the steps, Jane’s stomach was already dancing with the
memories of their lovemaking in Ireland.
There was no denying it. She loved him. She
respected him. She desired him.
***
The visits yesterday seemed to have paid
off. The letters he’d received this morning were very encouraging.
Nicholas sealed the last of his responses and handed them to his
waiting steward.
“Have them delivered this afternoon,
Charles.”
“I shall have it done, sir.” The burly
middle-aged man assured him. “And how was your ride with Miss
Purefoy this morning?”
“It was fine,” Nicholas answered,
straightening the papers on his desk.
“I hope you ain’t tired her too much.”
“I did not.”
“Jack tells me you missed more than a few of
the famous visiting places in our fair city.”
Nicholas lifted his gaze at the jocular tone
of his steward. “Miss Purefoy had already seen all that rubbish
before. And before you ask…yes, she appeared to have enjoyed our
little excursion. And yes, you may report all of this to Mrs.
Hannagan.”
“She’ll be pleased…though I’m guessing she
already knows.” The man grinned crookedly, showing a missing front
tooth and managing to look only slightly less ferocious. “We’re all
thinking Miss Purefoy’s a keeper sir. We just thought you might
need to be told.”
“Thank you, Charles. Now did I mention that
I wanted those letters be delivered today?”
“Aye, sir.” With a polite bow the steward
left the room only to knock a moment later to announce Jane’s wish
to see him.
Nicholas immediately rose to his feet. He
felt almost foolish, the way his heart swelled in his chest when he
saw her face.
“Am I intruding?” she asked shyly when
Charles closed the door on his way out.
“No. I am quite finished.” He came around
his desk. “How was your hour’s respite? Recovered from our
jaunt?”
“I was too restless to lie down.” She
glanced back toward the door and smiled. “I made the mistake of
saying the same thing to Mrs. Hannagan, and the sweet woman was
ready to call in for a doctor to have me bled. I have to thank
Charles for coming in and putting her mind at ease.”
“They are quite the pair, those two. They
have been with me for years and can be quite entertaining.” He let
his gaze wander appreciatively over the dress she was wearing.
“Mrs. Hannagan is easily rattled, but Charles took far too many
blows to his head in his youth to let anything affect him.”
“Blows to the head?”
“He was a boxer. A very good one, too, until
a sly fox blinded him in his left eye at Wetherby’s on Drury Lane.
After that, the poor devil took quite a beating from that side for
several years.”
“So you took him into your service.”
“Had to. He would have been killed if he’d
continued to fight.”
She continued to stand by the door, so he
approached her.
“But I don’t want to talk about Charles
right now.”
Her dark gaze flashed with awareness. “What
do you want to do, sir?”
He took both of her hands in his and placed
kisses on the soft palms. “Where did we leave off our conversation
this morning?”
Instead of answering, she freed her hands
and slipped them around his neck. “I do not feel much like talking
right now.”
Desire surged in his loins. “Then what
exactly do you want to do, miss?”
She raised herself on her toes and brushed
her lips against his.
“This.” She repeated the kiss—this time with
much more heat.
Nicholas lost himself in the seductive play
of their mouths as soon as she pressed her body against his. She
was all woman and fire, and he couldn’t get enough of her. His
mouth slanted deeply over hers and his hands were possessive when
they caressed her back, her breasts, cupping her bottom, and
pressing her hard against him.
“I want you, Jane. By ’sblood, I have missed
you.”
“I have missed you, too.”
Her hands moved beneath his jacket as he
tasted the skin of her neck. His hands began to loosen the laces on
the dress.
“We should go upstairs.”
“No. Here.” She pulled him toward the
nearest chair.
He was too focused on the moment to object
to anything. His jacket was tossed to the floor. The front of his
breeches were opened as he sat back on the chair. Jane lifted her
skirts, and he drew her onto his lap, impaling her with a single
thrust as she straddled him.
Nicholas echoed her groan as her muscles
closed around his member in the tightest of fits.
“You are so exquisitely perfect,” he
murmured. He pulled down on the neckline of her dress, freeing her
ivory breasts. He sensed her holding her breath as his tongue
started running in circles around one of her nipples. With her moan
of pleasure, he greedily took her fully into his mouth.
Jane dug her fingers into his hair and
guided his mouth to her other breast as her hips rose and moved
around him.
He struggled for a moment to keep her steady
and try to salvage some of his restraint. But when Jane’s head fell
backward, she looked like a goddess riding him, and he lost all
control.
Their release was fast and joyous, and each
clasped the other in their arms as the fulfillment of their desires
bonded their bodies and their souls.
For a few moments each of them fought to
catch their breaths. Their bodies were still joined at the most
intimate of places. Her dress was a shambles—half on, half off her
body. His own shirt was partially unbuttoned and her cheek was
pressed against his shoulder.
“Well, this was certainly a most pleasant
surprise.” He whispered against her hair some time later, once he’d
found his voice. The soft laugh he heard made him smile.
“I cannot believe I seduced you,” she
whispered, sighing contentedly.
“So…trying to take all the credit, I see,”
he teased, sliding his hands beneath her skirts and along the
smooth skin of her thigh. “Do you mean you refuse to recognize how
strategically I planned all of this?”
Before she could respond, a soft knock on
the door jerked Jane off his chest. She looked frantically at him
before trying to back off his lap.
“One moment, Charles,” he said, grinning in
spite of himself. He pulled up his breeches while trying to help
her adjust her dress. “The poor devil will be terribly
shocked.”
A second knock came, but before Nicholas
could call out again, the door opened slightly, and Clara’s face
appeared.
Shock had made her stare for a moment longer
than she should. Shame then made her stumble backward as she turned
and ran frantically upstairs.
Clara needed a place to hide, but upon
arriving at the top of the stairs, she looked wildly about her, not
knowing where to go or which room was safe.
They had not officially arrived yet. Lady
Spencer was still outside chatting with some lady who had been
passing in an open carriage on the street. Servants were running
about, either outside seeing to the luggage or inside preparing to
receive the guests. One of them had told her that Miss Purefoy was
in that room—the library—so Clara had knocked. Hearing no answer,
she had simply peeked in.
She brought a hand to her mouth. It was only
obvious what they had been doing. Too…too obvious. Crazy thoughts
of pretending the whole thing hadn’t happened ran through her head.
She would just go back outside with Lady Spencer, she thought, and
wait to enter the house officially with her. Whirling to run back
down the stairs, Clara didn’t make it a step, for Jane was facing
her on the top stair.
“We…it was raining endlessly…in Bath,” Clara
stuttered. “So we decided to come back to London…sooner than
expected.”
“Come with me, Clara.” There were tears in
Jane’s eyes when she took hold of Clara’s arm and dragged her up
another flight of stairs.
The young woman went along without a
struggle. At the top they entered a bedchamber that she realized
was Jane’s.
“A lovely room,” she whispered. “Bright sun
comes in though those…”
“Please do not do this to me.”
Clara turned and watched her sister leaning
against the closed door.
“Do not pretend that nothing has happened,
or that you failed to see us downstairs.” Jane pushed herself away
from the door and took a step toward her. “Be honest with me,
Clara. Let me bear the guilt and the blame. Release your anger,
somehow, instead of pouring it in.”
“Jane, you are a grown woman. What you do
with your life…”
“What I have done with
your
life that
we are discussing now,” the older sister said brokenly. Her cheeks
were flushed. “Clara, I know you asked me, pleaded with me to leave
Nicholas alone. You said that you were interested in him. That you
were somehow planning to convince him…to marry you.”
“But you could not do it.”
“No I couldn’t. The fact is…I…we…love each
other. And though I know that there is no chance of us ever having
a future together, at the same time…if you really wanted him…if you
loved him even close to how much I love him…if you knew the man
that he is…then I would…I would stay away.” Jane batted at the
tears coursing down her face. “But he deserves more than a mere
contract. He deserves someone who will truly care. And
you
deserve to find a man who can love you, as well.”
Clara sat on the edge of the bed and battled
her own raw emotions in response to Jane’s fierce sadness.
“It is the most astonishing thing to be in
love, Clara. As desperate as my life might appear to you—despite
the fact that I may never have a settled future—loving Nicholas and
being loved by him has given me something I have never had before.
He has given me something I never felt with Conor.”
Henry’s face was so clearly etched in her
mind’s eye that Clara had no difficulty conjuring his image now.
She did indeed know what it was to love…and to feel its pain. “But
we are not all born to be strong. We cannot all simply go after
what we want and succeed in getting it.”
“But you were born strong.” Jane crouched
before her. “You and I are sisters—we are made of the same stock.
While I have led my life as a rebel, you have strived to conform
and to obey, to be the perfect daughter to our parents. In the
process, though, you have caged up your own spirit.” Jane’s hands
cupped Clara’s. “You cannot continue to shoulder blame for me, to
be the ever-compliant peacemaker in our parent’s home. You cannot
go on forever saying and doing what pleases everyone else and
forget about yourself.”
A memory long buried forced tears to Clara’s
eyes. She looked down at their joined hands.
“Blame belongs to those who have sinned,
Clara. My past is my own doing. The life I have led has been led by
my own choosing. Our parents’ differences are as old as time, and
there might never be a way to resolve it. But that is their life,
not yours.” Jane’s voice dropped low, her tone filled with
conviction. “Break the shell, Clara. Let me see my own sister. I
thought I was seeing a glimpse of it that morning when you asked me
to leave Woodfield House and Nicholas’s life. But I know now that
wasn’t really you. Your reaction to what you witnessed a few
moments ago confirmed it. You do not care for him enough even to
fight.”