Almost a Princess (17 page)

How could she hope to make him understand?

“Now,” he said, “what is it you want to say to me?”

She felt the quick rush of color to her cheeks and quickly looked away. “What I want to say can’t be said in a few minutes. Will you call on me tonight after we get back to Woodlands?”

“Jane, let me see your eyes.”

When she turned, he studied her face. “It’s about us, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “It’s about us.”

He gave her a long, searching look, then slowly smiled. “I suppose my aunt has been talking to you?”

“Yes. No. It isn’t that.”

He bent his head and swiftly kissed her. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, nothing more than the brush of his lips on hers, but everything inside her melted with longing. Her fingers fisted in the lapel of his coat.

“Oh, my,” he said when he drew away. His breathing was audible. “It doesn’t matter what you say, your eyes speak volumes. Jane, don’t look so stricken. I promise my intentions are honorable.” And he laughed in that careless way of his.

When she made to reply, he shook his head. “As you said, we’ll talk at Woodlands. Now this is what I wanted to show you.”

Following his gaze, she looked down on Twickenham House and its extensive grounds. The sun was low in the sky, and its wintry rays were caught and reflected back by the many small-paned windows of the three-story house. The stable block was twice the size of her own house, and below the stable block, where the turf ended, she could just glimpse the river with the odd boat floating on its surface. The whole scene was picture-book perfect.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, trying not to sound as wooden as she felt.

They did the circuit twice, to exercise the horses, he said, and each time he pointed out something else of interest—the folly, the man-made lake, the rotunda, and the infirmary, which turned out to be the old coach house where His Grace pursued his hobby of rebuilding broken-down coaches. He assumed that this was her first visit to his home and she let him go on thinking it because he was enjoying showing her everything.

She smiled and laughed in all the right places, but there was no joy in it, only an ocean of regret.

As guests filed into the music room and took their places for the concert, Case kept his distance from Jane and stationed himself in one of the window alcoves at the back of the room. He wanted to sit beside her, but he knew that if he did, it would be tantamount to a declaration of his intentions and Jane wasn’t ready for that.

He had a fair idea of what she wanted to say to him. She’d want to point out the vast disparity in their social standing, she had no fortune, his family would expect him to make a brilliant match, and so on and so on. Just thinking about it made him want to yawn.

Or she might try another tack: how she was settled in the single life and wanted everything to go on as before. If he couldn’t laugh her out of it, maybe he’d kiss her out of it.

It could be, of course, that she’d fling his past in his teeth as she’d done once before. But things had changed between them since then. All the same, she might have some serious reservations about committing herself to a man whose name had been linked to a string of highflyers. The thought made him wince.

The odd thing was that in spite of his less-than-saintly past, he felt as though he were coming to her as a new man. For the first time in his life, he wanted more than passion from a woman. He wanted intimacy, in the fullest sense of that word. He wanted to share his life with her and he wanted to share her life, too.

The musicians took their places and began to tune their instruments. Observing Waldo sitting off by himself, Case went and joined him.

“You look windblown,” he remarked.

“So would you if you’d spent the last hour or two walking Miss Mayberry’s dog.”

“Where was Harper?”

“Where do you think? In the infirmary with His Grace, resurrecting some ancient relic that, in my opinion, deserves a decent burial.”

Case laughed. “Just as long as someone is watching my father’s back.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got him covered.”

The opening strains of the overture had hardly begun when a footman approached Case and told him he was wanted in the vestibule. When Case left the room, Waldo went after him.

A porter from the lodge handed Case a note. “Two gentlemen,” he said, “wanted to talk to you. They said it was urgent, but their names wasn’t on the list, so we wouldn’t open the gates. Not very pleasant they was, if you don’t mind my saying so, your lordship. They left this note for you, then went off in quite a taking.”

Case opened the note and quickly scanned it.

Sir,

If you wish to save Miss Mayberry and yourself
from public disgrace and humiliation, I suggest you
meet me in the Saracen’s Head in Twickenham.
I shall give you until eight o’clock.

Your servant, sir
James Campbell

“Who the devil is James Campbell?” Case demanded.

No one could answer him.

“What was the other man’s name?” he asked the porter.

“Reeve,” replied the porter. “Lord Reeve, it was.”

Reeve!
He’d forgotten about Reeve, but he shouldn’t have. Reeve had been humiliated. He’d lost Miss Drake and, of course, he blamed that on Jane and himself. If Reeve thought he’d let him embarrass or hurt Jane in any way, he would soon learn his error.

When Case thrust the note into his pocket, Waldo said, “Is this our friend Piers up to his old tricks?”

“No,” said Case. “This is a personal matter, but I’d like you to come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Twickenham. We’ll take my curricle. We should be there in ten minutes.”

Chapter 15

She delayed going to bed for as long as she could, but eventually she had to face the fact that Case wasn’t coming and all she was doing was keeping the servants from their own beds. She wasn’t alarmed, but she was puzzled. He’d left her without a word of explanation, no note or message with one of the footmen. All Harper would say was that something had come up and his lordship had gone into Twickenham with Mr. Bowman. But Harper hadn’t offered her the information. She’d had to ask.

“It’s doesn’t mean anything,” she told Lance as they began to climb the stairs.

Ruggles was already in the corridor, not far from the door to her chamber, and she caught him off guard. He was sitting beside the table with the lamp on it, munching on a sandwich. There was a pistol on the table and a tankard of ale. At sight of her, his fair skin went a guilty red.

“Miss Mayberry,” he stammered. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”

“No, don’t get up. You look as though you should be in your own bed. You can’t be on duty morning, noon, and night, you know. I said sit down, Mr. Ruggles.”

He sat, but he didn’t look comfortable. “I’m not on duty all the time. Mr. Harper or one of the other footmen usually relieves me early in the morning. Then I sleep.” He grinned sheepishly. “Or I try to, but I’m not used to going to bed when the sun comes up.”

Lance had trotted over to him and was now sniffing at one of his pockets. “Oh, not you, too, Mr. Ruggles,” she said.

Another sheepish grin. “Mr. Harper advised me to keep a bit of bacon in my pocket in case I came face-to-face with your dog when you weren’t there. May I give it to him?”

She nodded. “He’s not savage, you know. He doesn’t attack without provocation. You might say his bark is worse than his bite.”

Ruggles laughed. Lance took the proffered bacon in one swallow. “Good dog,” said Ruggles, and patted Lance, but he did it gingerly.

“You’re not used to dogs.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“There’s no place for dogs when you’re in service. And in the houses where I’ve worked, the dogs are kept outside, so I’ve never had much truck with them. But one of these days, I’m going to open a nice little tavern. Then maybe I’ll get myself a dog.”

What he left unsaid, but what Jane picked up right away, was that he might also get himself a nice little wife and a nice little family. There was no place for children or pets when one was in service, and every footman she had ever known dreamed of saving enough money so that he could start his own little business. A few achieved their ambitions, but only a few. She hoped Ruggles would be one of them.

She nodded to the pistol. “Do you know how to use that thing?”

“Not so you’d notice,” he said, and they both laughed. “But Mr. Harper is giving me lessons.”

He hadn’t touched his sandwich since she’d appeared on the scene and she knew he wouldn’t until she was gone, so she bid him goodnight and entered her chamber.

She’d told the maid not to wait up for her, but she had left a candle burning on the mantel. The fire was banked for the night and the bedclothes were turned down. The pitcher of water on the washstand had cooled in the interim, but it was still warm. Sighing, she began to disrobe.

When she was naked, she examined herself in the long cheval mirror. There were no bruises or marks to show that she’d been assaulted. That was the thing with Jack. He was such a gentleman. He took good care to make sure that he never left any bruises to mar her beauty. Occasionally, he misjudged his blows, but not very often and not this time.

It was humiliating. She hated this feeling of helplessness. One of these days she’d have to do something about Jack before he killed her. It wasn’t the first time she’d had that thought, but she had never done anything. Perhaps it was time.

She went to bed with her little pearl-handled pistol tucked under her pillow, and with her dog on the hearth. It didn’t stop her from tossing and turning. Thoughts came and went. Where was Jack and what would he do now that he knew she was in London? Where was Gideon Piers? When would she see Case and what would she say to him?

Where was Case, and what was she going to say to him?

After ten minutes of turmoil, she pushed back the bedclothes and got up. She lit the candle from the fire, wrapped herself in her warm woolen robe, then looked around for a book to read. Her attention changed direction when Lance got up and with one of his purring sounds of pleasure bounded to the door.

She heard the low murmur of voices, then someone knocked on her door.

Although she was sure it was Case, after that morning’s events, she wasn’t taking any chances. When she opened the door, she had her pistol in her hand. Lance bounded forward.

“Good boy,” Case said. “Yes, I’m glad to see you, too. But you’re going with Ruggles right now for a little walk.” Then to Ruggles, “Give me the leash.” He hooked the leash onto Lance’s collar. “Wait for me at the stable block,” he told Ruggles. “This shouldn’t take long.”

When he entered the room and shut the door, Jane had no doubt that he was gripped by powerful emotions. His face was set, and his hands fisted and unfisted at his sides. She could smell the brandy on him. Just as fear began to rise in her, he pushed past her and walked to the fireplace. With his arm resting on the mantel, he faced her across the width of the room.

He made a slashing movement with one hand. “Put that damn thing away. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She’d forgotten that she was holding her pistol. She set it on top of the dresser but kept her distance from him. In spite of his reassuring words, he’d been drinking; he was also a powerful male animal in the grip of strong emotions and that made her doubly wary.

This anger couldn’t be the result of Harper telling him about Jack’s attack, she was thinking. His next words electrified her.

“Well, don’t stand there staring,
Mrs. Campbell
. Come into the light so I can see the face of the lying jade who deceived me. Deceived us all, in fact.”

He wanted her to protest that there was some mistake, that Campbell must be confusing her with some other woman, but that was sheer wishful thinking on his part. Besides, her face betrayed her. Her skin went parchment white and she gazed at him with large, fear-bright eyes.

He didn’t like Campbell. Two minutes after meeting the man he’d summed him up as a vain, swaggering braggart. If their positions were reversed, if he were married to Jane and he thought Campbell was her lover, he would have called him out. In spite of his bluster, Campbell was pathetic. His wife had deserted him. He’d had no word from her in years. Then he discovers her in London, meets her by chance in Bond Street, and all is forgiven. He realizes he still loves her.

And that was what rankled; that was what galled him. She’d worked the same siren’s spell on him. Even knowing how she’d tricked him, deceived him, he still loved her.

Her voice was no more than a whisper. “How did you find out?”

“Campbell found me. With the help of that toad, Reeve. Seems Reeve saw you set Lance on your erstwhile husband this morning in Vigo Street, and afterward made his acquaintance, with, I need hardly add, one object in mind—to gloat at my expense.”

He hurled the words at her. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lead me on?”

And here was something else that rankled. He’d organized the whole day to make her realize how easily she would fit into his life and all the time she’d been concealing the one compelling reason that could have stopped him before he made a complete and utter fool of himself. He didn’t care what others thought of him, but he despised himself for being so completely taken in by her. She’d played with him, uncaring of how true and deep his feelings went.

Guilt made her look away. “I tried to tell you, but the moment never seemed right. There was always someone with you or with me. That’s why I asked you to come here tonight, so that I could tell you about Jack.”

“If you had one ounce of integrity, you would have told me long before now.”

The unjust words had the effect of making her temper blaze as hotly as his. “I didn’t tell you because I thought I was entitled to my private life.”

When he advanced on her, she held her ground, and when he stopped only inches from her, instinct made her hold up her head and keep her eyes steady on his. In a low, calming voice, she said, “From the very beginning, I tried to make it plain that I was happy with my life just the way it was, that I didn’t need or want a man in it. You wouldn’t listen.”

Her composure only made him angrier. “Oh, no,” he said. “From the very beginning, you’ve drawn me into your life, if you can call it a life. No, you didn’t ask for my help, but your eyes, your
lovely
eyes, speak volumes. And I was there when you needed me.”

Tears clogged her throat. She couldn’t deny it. He’d taken her part against Lord Reeve; he’d rescued Ben; he’d helped her with Emily and taken her in when she’d nowhere else to go. “I didn’t know. I didn’t understand. It wasn’t supposed to happen.” She stopped when her voice cracked.

He gathered her hair in his hands. “Didn’t know what? That I was falling in love with you?”

“No,” she said, making a moan of the word. “That I was falling in love with you.”

For long, endless moments, he stared at her, and the fury in his eyes gradually dimmed. She thought he was going to kiss her, but he let go of her hair, turned aside, and went back to the fire. He spoke with a kind of weariness. “You’ve done nothing but tell me a pack of lies from the moment I met you. But all that is over and done with. Campbell is ready to forgive and forget if you’ll only go back to him.”

Her mind was numb, then it was awash with fear. She had to swallow the dryness in her throat. “What did you tell him?”

“Oh, I didn’t say much. I suppose I was too shocked to think straight. Campbell did most of the talking. Can you believe he still loves you and wants you back? He mentioned an heir. Seems his father would like to see his line continued. In fact, he’s insisting on it.”

She was aghast. “I’ll never go back to him!”

“If you don’t, he’s going to instigate divorce proceedings against you.”

“On what grounds?”

“Adultery.”

The breath she exhaled was the only sound in the room. “With whom?”

He said savagely, “Whom do you think? With me, of course.”

“But we haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Maybe not, but it won’t be hard for Campbell to find witnesses to testify that I’ve stayed the night at your house in Highgate, and here at Woodlands. You’re the one who warned me that your neighbors had the wrong idea about us.” His jaw tensed. “If I’d known there was a husband waiting in the wings, I would have taken care not to get caught in the trap we’re now in.”

His tone of voice, his expression, assaulted her like hammer blows. As in a daze, she felt her way to the bed and sat down. There was a loose thread on the cover and she stared at it, trying to put her thoughts in order. She spoke slowly, as the thoughts occurred to her. “I don’t care if he divorces me. In fact, it would be the answer to a prayer. But I can’t believe he’d give me up so easily. There must be a catch in it somewhere.”

He was suddenly looming over her and she involuntarily flinched away. “The catch is
me,”
he said viciously. “He has caught a big fish in his net and he won’t let me go.”

When she looked at him blankly, he went on, “I’m talking about punitive damages. You remember Uxbridge, don’t you? He had to pay the wronged husband twenty thousand pounds in damages for stealing his wife’s affections or whatever they call it in legal terms. Frankly, Miss Mayberry, you’re not worth twenty thousand pounds to me.”

She remembered the divorce action against Lord Uxbridge very well. It had rocked society. He’d paid another ten thousand pounds to get out of his own marriage. Now everybody was happily married to someone else.

She wanted to laugh; she wanted to cry. She looked up at him. “But you can avoid paying punitive damages if—what?”

“If you leave my protection. If you go back to him.”

There was a roaring in her ears and her heart lurched. He didn’t know what he was asking of her. But he should have known. If he truly cared for her, he would have taken her part.

His eyes were searching her face. Before he could see just how much he had hurt her, she surged to her feet and sent him staggering back. She made straight for the closet where her box was kept. She dragged it into the center of the floor, and began to pack.

“What in blazes do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. He put a hand on her arm but she shook him off.

“Don’t touch me!” Her voice was brittle, on the point of shattering, and she made an effort to control it. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m leaving. As you said, I’m no longer under your protection. I never wanted your protection anyway. I know how to take care of myself. I have my dog and my pistol. They’re much more reliable than people.”

She finished emptying the drawers of one commode and would have started on the tall dresser if he had not blocked her path. “You can’t leave here at this hour of the night. For God’s sake, Jane, get a grip on yourself. I’ll have someone take you wherever you want to go in the morning.”

“Well, it won’t be to Jack Campbell! I’ll never go back to him.”

“I’m not saying you have to stay with him. If you can’t patch up your quarrel, that’s up to you. But unless you make a genuine attempt at reconciliation— and that’s the advice of my attorney—he can still bring an action against us.”

“You talked to an attorney?” she asked incredulously.

“I talked to Robert! After I talked to Campbell, I decided I needed legal advice.”

And a stiff drink, then another, to wash the bitter taste of betrayal from his mouth. Robert’s advice had gone farther—he should cut all ties to Jane Mayberry at once and let Robert act for him. But this he could not do. He had to come to Woodlands to see her one last time and confront her with her lies.

Now, as he looked at her white, stricken face and the panic in her eyes, he began to waver. “Jane—” he began.