A Taste for Scandal (33 page)

“
Burdened
with you? How could you think such a thing? I could have helped you.”

“You didn’t need to. Your sisters took care of everything—”

“Clearly they did not,” he cut in, his voice harsh and derisive. “If they had helped you, you would still be in your own bakery.”

“That’s not true. My decisions resulted in the loss—”

“
Our
decisions, Jane. And if I had known, I could have—”

“What? You could have what, Richard? Ridden in on a white horse and rescued me? What could you have done?”

“I could have forced them to let you stay.”

She paused, her eyes searching the shadowy planes of his face. “Forced them? Just like the witnesses to my father’s death were made to look away?” She shook her head. “No, there are consequences for our actions, and we have to live with them. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. Mrs. Brown would have poisoned my customers, turning them against me. Who wants to get their pastries from a tart?”

He growled, pacing along the thick rug. “You still should have come to me. If there are consequences for our actions, then I should have been sentenced right along with you.”

She stood and went to him, touching a hand to his sleeve to stop his pacing. “We both have our sentences. The strain is written all over your face. Your sisters did right by me. Leave it at that.”

Cursing, he pulled away from her. Jane took a deep breath, trying to loosen the knot of emotion that nearly choked her. Would it be harder now—knowing that he knew she was here? Would she be able to stop thinking about him? She sighed. Probably not. “Mrs. Ensley will be expecting me back.”

He nodded, blowing out a long breath. “Yes, and I have some siblings to see to.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said sharply, turning a finger on him. “I better not hear that you said even a word to them.”

A small smile lifted the corner of his lips. “Oh, really? And what would you do if I did?”

She refused to be drawn in by his teasing tone. “It’s not your place, and I’ll never forgive you if you punish them for their kindness.”

“Such cruelness,” he said, shaking his head in mock dismay. “Well, I cannot promise anything, but I shall strive to keep my mouth shut for your benefit.”

He leaned down, close enough that his warm breath fanned across her cheek. She only just contained the shiver that threatened to betray her. “But I want to see you again. And soon.”

“No, I can’t—”

“You
can
,” he said, bending to kiss the side of her neck. “Because you’ve already said that you don’t wish me to be further burdened. And living without you is
definitely
a burden.”

His kiss was doing strange things to her brain, making things like seeing him again sound not so improbable. Chills swept down her spine as he feathered kisses across her collarbone. “When?” she breathed, unable to stop herself.

“The family is attending our first ball since my father’s illness—without him, of course—on Friday night. I could come here afterward, around two?”

She bit her lip, indecision warring within her. “I can’t betray your sister’s trust in me. I don’t want to be sneaking around in their home like some sort of criminal.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to come up with something a bit more creative.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Sitting in the drawing room beside Beatrice, Richard watched Charity as her fingers swept over the keys of the pianoforte, the very picture of an accomplished young lady. Sunshine fell across her shoulders and glinted off her auburn curls as if God himself were reminding Richard that a perfectly suitable bride was right within his reach.

He squelched the desire to yank the drapes closed. He had already decided that Charity would probably make the perfect future marchioness; he didn’t need the bloody sun trying to push him into it.

Then again, perhaps he did. All afternoon his mind had been occupied with thoughts of Jane and how he would see her again—under her terms. That was the hard part. He could think of a million ways to get her alone, but not a single one that wouldn’t be thought of as sneaking around.

And there was an unsettling sense of urgency deep within him, making matters worse. Once he officially decided on his future bride—making the betrothal announcement and whatnot—he knew his small window of opportunity to see Jane would end. He may be a rake and a scoundrel as a bachelor, but it was against everything in him to indulge in affairs once married. Of course, it wouldn’t matter even if it wasn’t—
Jane
sure as hell wouldn’t allow it.

The song came to an end, and his mother clapped from her spot on the sofa. “Oh, my dear, you play like an angel. Nothing gives me more pleasure during this difficult time than the sound of your music—and your company, of course.” Mother’s broad smile pushed past the cloak of exhaustion she had borne the past few weeks. “I do believe you have earned a break, my dear. Why don’t you and Richard take a turn about the room?”

“I have a better idea,” he said, coming to his feet. “Why don’t we step out on the terrace and enjoy this lovely sunshine? I don’t know about you, but I could use a bit of fresh air.” Evie’s ball would be here before he knew it, and though he was relatively certain that Charity would be the best choice for his bride, he wanted to get an idea of how she felt about him. If she had some idealized hope of finding love, it wouldn’t be fair to marry her.

Charity smiled as she stood, not quite able to hide her relief. He didn’t blame her—the house did feel a bit stifling these days. “What a lovely idea! Thank you, Richard.”

His mother and Mrs. Effington exchanged pleased glances, but there was no use being bothered by it. Beatrice watched him quietly, as if trying to figure out a riddle. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what that was all about.

Smiling at Charity, he extended his elbow to escort her outside. Truly, he couldn’t help but be grateful to her—if for no other reason than bringing light into the house with her music. These last few weeks had been difficult, even for Jocelyn and Carolyn, with their normally cheery outlooks.

As they stepped out onto the terrace, Charity sighed and tipped her head to the sunshine. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I think London actually gets less sunshine than Durham. The sun feels so good today, does it not?”

“Indeed. Although I’ll admit, I’m generally more of a nighthawk myself. Of course, then again, all the best debauchery occurs after dark.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, hush. You’re not as bad as you’d like to think. As a matter of fact, I will say that you have been one of the kindest gentlemen I have met this Season.”

“Clearly you need to be introduced to more people.”

She laughed, the sound clear and unabashed. “I assure you, I have met more than my share.”

Richard grinned, looking out over the garden. “So has your first foray into the London Season proven to be success, then? Any love matches on the horizon?”

Charity was quiet for a moment, and he glanced back at her. Her cheeks were a dull red. Had he embarrassed her? Looking up at him, she gave him a small smile. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly an Incomparable. No suitors knocking down the door, in other words. But I’m not concerned. I don’t need a love match. Just a comfortable home and a husband who doesn’t mind my constant playing.”

Perfect. She was saying exactly what he wanted to hear, and yet all it did was make him mad on her behalf. What was wrong with the idiots of the
ton
? She may have a very modest dowry and unconventional looks, but she would make anyone a lovely wife. “You are better than an Incomparable, Charity. You are an Original. Be proud of that.”

She smiled up at him with true delight, and he sighed. Yes, she would make anyone a lovely wife—including him. Bloody hell.

“Miss Bunting, Lady Evelyn asked for me to fetch you. She’s in the morning room.”

Jane nodded to Evie’s lady’s maid, and set down the menu she was reviewing. “Thank you, Morgan. I’ll be right up. I just need to pull the scones out in a few minutes.”

Mrs. Ensley’s pale brows rose. “Coo, listen to that—a summons from the lady herself.” She nodded encouragingly, making shooing motions with her hands. “Well, go on then, dearie. I’ll take care of the scones.”

A sweeter woman, Jane had never known. Even with all of the stress of turning out perfect meals three times a day for such a fine household, the woman always seemed to be in a good mood. Of course, it helped that she knew she was one of the best cooks in London. Jane herself had never eaten so well. “Thank you, Mrs. Ensley. They should be ready in three or four minutes.”

“Don’t worry. I may not have the angel’s touch that you do when making your pastries, but I know how to keep ’em from burning.”

With a grateful smile, Jane headed up to the morning room, a room she had visited only once before, when she and Beatrice first came. The pink décor didn’t seem to quite fit Evie, but the huge windows let in plenty of light and afforded a lovely view of Green Park—at least it did when the fog wasn’t thick as pea soup. She scratched on the door. “You wished to see me, my lady?”

Evie grinned broadly, swaying side to side as her sweet baby lay against her chest. “Yes, yes, please come in. I’d sit with you, but every time I stop moving, Emma wakes up.”

“My brother was exactly the same way. I remember Mama didn’t seem to sit down for six months.” She could clearly picture her mother, smiling softly as she rocked back and forth with Weston in her arms.

“The things we do for love,” Evie said, shaking her head. “And, speaking of mothers, mine just sent over a note about our upcoming dinner, and I was wondering—have you ever made one of those elaborate cakes? With tiers, and frosting, and whatnot?”

“Not exactly.” She had seen those sorts of things once or twice before, but she had never actually made one. Still, she hated the feeling that she might disappoint Evie when she had been so kind. “I have made plenty of smaller cakes, however. Is this for the dinner, then?”

“It is. Apparently, Miss Effington’s birthday is two days before, and Mama thought it would be great fun to surprise her with something special. Especially,” Evie said, leaning forward as if armed with the most delicious
on dit
, “since Mama suspects there may be an announcement soon.”

Should such a thing mean something to her? “I see.”

“She is so thrilled,” Evie went on, seemingly unaware that Jane hadn’t a clue what sort of announcement she was talking about, or even who Miss Effington was. As far as she knew, this was supposed to be a family dinner. “With the worry and exhaustion Mama has endured since Papa’s attack, it is so lovely to see her excited about something.”

Jane remembered exactly how hard her mother had taken Papa’s death. Even though Lord Granville was healing, she could only imagine how difficult such a thing would be on a wife. She couldn’t help but want to make things better in some small way for Richard’s parents. “Then I shall do my very best to make a cake that will please her.”

“Wonderful.” Her smile was so sunny, Jane couldn’t help but smile back. There was something about Evie that was just so nice to be around. She was never judgmental, never seeming to hold herself above Jane or the other servants. It was nice to not even really
feel
like a servant. It was almost like an extension of her shop, being here. Jane baked whatever she liked, and enjoyed ample praise for just about anything that came out of her oven.

Evie pursed her lips, looking out at the damp street. “Something with music notes, I think. She is a brilliant pianoforte player, probably the best I’ve ever heard. And Richard told me that she even composes her own pieces, while pretending to play the music on the pages in front of her so her mother will not be upset. A girl after my own heart, I think.” Evie grinned, lifting Emma up and kissing her plump little cheeks. “We don’t like to follow paths laid out by others, do we, now?”

“That
is
remarkable,” Jane said, nodding absently as she mulled what sort of design to do. “I’ll have to come up with something special to please both Miss Effington and your mother.”

Evie offered her a heartfelt smile, her sparkling blue eyes instantly putting Jane in mind of Richard. “You are a treasure, Jane. And thank you. Charity has been so wonderful during these last few weeks. I can’t wait to see her face when she sees your cake.”

Jane returned her smile and came to her feet. “I promise to do my very best.” Anyone who could bring joy to Richard’s family deserved nothing less.

“Excellent. Honestly, my brother could hardly do better for a bride than our Charity.”

The words stopped Jane cold.
Bride?
Announcement? The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

“Jane, is something the matter?”

She swallowed and shook her head, trying to conceal the turmoil suddenly churning within her. “No, not at all. I hadn’t realized . . . that is to say, I didn’t know congratulations were in order for your family.”

“Well, not yet. But Mama feels certain that it will be soon.”

Jane nodded, excusing herself as quickly as she could. Richard was about to choose a bride? She couldn’t even separate all of the emotions crashing around inside her, let alone name them.

And the irony of it all? Jane now had the privilege of baking for the very woman she wanted to be. She had thought the worst was behind her when she’d found employment in such a lovely household, but it would seem that her greatest challenge was yet to come.

“You are aware, I think, that you owe me. Massively, in fact.”

Benedict lowered his paper and eyed Richard skeptically. “It’s a bit early in the morning for that sort of thing, don’t you think?”

Richard shrugged, unconcerned, and let himself into Benedict’s study. “On the contrary—it’s
never
too early to call in a debt.”

This got his friend’s attention. Folding the paper and tossing it on the apple wood desk, he spread his arms. “Call away. Though I feel compelled to ask, how big of a favor are we talking about? The I-introduced-you-to-my-sister-and-allowed-you-to-marry-her debt, or the I-stuck-by-your-side-in-the-face-of-real-danger-and-may-have-saved-your-life debt?”