Unveiled (Undone by Love Book 3) (6 page)

“Please,” she pleaded, her voice a hoarse whisper
. “You mustn’t.”  She stood stiffly, braced against the window, unwilling to give in to her inexplicable desires.

As stealthily as a panther, he moved away
–as quickly and silently as he’d come to her. An unexpected pang of disappointment shot through her. When at last she turned from the window, he was standing stone-faced on the far side of the room, observing her with his hands clasped behind his back. For a moment Jane thought she’d imagined his touch, his presence; that he’d been there across the room all along. Maybe she
was
going mad.

“I’ll summon a carriage to return you to the Tollands,” he said briskly, his voice cool and clipped
. “In the meantime, I’ll have the housekeeper show you to the nursery to bid Madeline good-bye.”

“Thank you, my lord.”  She feared her legs would buckle beneath her at any moment if she did not get away from him at once.

***

Moments later, Hayden watched as the housekeeper led Jane out of the salon and upstairs to the nursery
. As soon as she was gone he went to the sideboard in long, angry strides and poured himself a whiskey. With a jerk of the wrist, he downed the drink in one swift motion. He slammed the glass back down, his gaze drawn involuntarily to the very window she’d stood at just moments ago, her cheeks flushed a healthy pink, her hand trembling beneath his on the cool glass.

He picked up the empty tumbler and threw it at the casings, sending shards of broken glass sailing onto the carpet below.

Bloody hell
!

His tightly guarded control was slipping, and slipping fast
. She was positively maddening. Waspish and proud one minute, quivering beside him the next. Sharp as a blade, yet all womanly accomplishment. She was unlike any woman he’d ever met, and his desire for her could not be denied.

He sought only a pleasing, accommodating disposition for the wife who would share his home
. Nothing more. Therefore, he’d immediately dismissed Miss Rosemoor–Jane–as far too alluring, much too tempting, and not nearly docile enough, besides. She would challenge him at every turn.

But since that kiss in the maze, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind, much as he tried
. His firm resolve was wavering. He wanted her in his bed. But she was a lady of breeding, despite her outspoken nature, and good
ton
, the sister of the Viscount Rosemoor. Not acceptable for the role of mistress, but perfectly suited for that of wife.

He couldn’t deny that he desired her physically, but nothing more
. His heart would remain immune to a woman with such a sharp tongue, a woman so quick to speak her mind. Lust was a far cry from love, after all. She was no different from the rest, he told himself; no doubt she had stood there at the window, surveying the grounds and envisioning herself mistress of Richmond. Even so, he felt certain that she’d be good to Madeline–that she would treat the child with affection and kindness. Naturally she’d have the skills to capably run his household; such skills came with good breeding.  

Perhaps she’d do, after all
. It would certainly save him the trouble in London. He nodded, his mind made up, and resolved to inform her of his decision immediately upon her return from Clifton. With a resigned grimace, he hastened out to summon the carriage.

Chapter 5

“Aunt Gertrude,” Jane called out merrily, dashing up the front steps to fold the frail woman into her arms
.

Her great-aunt released her and stepped back, bringing her spectacles up to rest upon her nose
. “Is it really you, child? It’s been so very long.”

“It has, indeed, Auntie
. How’s Grandmama?”

“Unchanged, I’m afraid
. Not at all up for visitors. I fear you’ve come all this way for naught.”

“Come now, it would be worth the trip just for your pleasant company alone.”  Jane’s cheerful tone belied her agitation
. She had not traveled so far to be denied the truth. She’d come to see her Grandmama, and see her she would.

“Come inside, dear
. Trevors will get your traveling cases.” 

Jane followed her aunt into the great hall, shuddering at the deterioration of The Orchards since her last visit
. The vine-embellished paper on the walls was peeled back at the edges, hanging loosely in places. Lace-like cobwebs sullied the hall’s corners, and chairs with their stuffing peeking out from faded covers lined the wall. As they moved further into the house and settled into the drawing room, Jane noted that the rest of the house suffered a similar fate. The once-fine manor was in tatters.

Jane resolved at once to do whatever she could to smarten the place up a bit
. Perhaps her brother would help with some funds. She would write to Colin at once.

Her aunt startled her with a papery-thin hand on her forearm
. “I know, dear. I can see it in your eyes. Perhaps we’ve allowed the place to grow shabby. There’s just never been a need, as we have very few visitors. Very few, indeed. We’re happy here, your grandmama and I. Mrs. Carter is a fine nurse–we’re in capable hands.”

Jane shook her head sadly
. “I...are you certain? Because if there’s anything I can do, anything at all–”

“Just live your life, dear Jane
. Knowing that you are happy and settled will give us both the greatest joy. Your mama writes that you come to us with questions, seeking answers. Truly, there’s nothing to tell, nothing that should affect the choices you make. Your grandmama is ill, nothing more. A weak, sickly constitution. Her nerves give her trouble. Sometimes she’s a bit confused, disoriented.”

“But Aunt Susan
–”

“Her accident was surely a tragedy.”

Accident? Jane shuddered as a cold bead of sweat trickled down her back. Why would Aunt Gertrude say it was an accident when everyone knew the woman had taken her own life? She shook her head, perplexed.

“Aunt Gertrude, I must know
. I’ve heard talk that this...this
malady
increases after childbirth. Do you believe that to be true?”

“Well, let me think.”  Aunt Gertrude pursed her mouth and pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose
. “No,” she said at last, her thin lips drawn into a tight smile. “No, I do not. I recognize no such connection. Come now, this is not a pleasant topic of conversation, not for a young lady. Tell me, have you any new suitors? Surely a gentleman or two must have caught your fancy by now.”

“No, I’m afraid not.”  Jane smiled indulgently at her aunt
. Every conversation she had with well-meaning relations inevitably took this route, as though she wore her spinsterhood like a yoke about her neck.

“But how can that be
? A girl as lovely and gay as you? Your mother tells me you’ve enjoyed a good deal of popularity over the years.”  She leaned forward and laid a hand on Jane’s wrist, a knowing smile on her lips. “None of the young bucks managed to sweep you off your feet, did they?”

Jane could only shake her head, biting her lip to suppress an amused smile
.
Young bucks
? Had her elderly aunt actually spoken those words aloud?

“A love match is a fine thing, dear,” Aunt Gertrude continued on enthusiastically
. “But in the absence of one, perhaps a nice, companionable marriage would satisfy?”

“I’m afraid not, Auntie
. Besides, I’m perfectly content to remain a spinster.”

“I must confess I’ve not minded terribly my own decision not to wed, but still...”  She trailed off with a sigh
. “Do not think I didn’t enjoy a furtive kiss in the garden in my day.”

Jane’s eyes widened with surprise
. “Goodness, Auntie! That’s positively scandalous.”  She couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, times were quite different in my youth, mind you
. What you call scandalous today was simply... Well, never mind. Anyway, I haven’t had much time to regret my unmarried state, as busy as I’ve been caring for your grandmama all these years. But how will you occupy your time? Your own sister is well enough, happily married at that.”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” she confessed
. “Besides, I have not said that I’m entirely set on spinsterhood. I thought perhaps to get some answers first, answers about Grandmama and–”    

“Oh, dear, here I’ve prattled on and on, and look at you, barely able to sit upright, so overcome with fatigue
. How very selfish of me.”  She rose and gestured for Jane to follow suit. “Come, let me show you to your room. We’ll have plenty of time to talk in the days to come.”

Clearly, Jane would get no answers from Aunt Gertrude
. Not tonight, at least.

***

Jane set down her fork and reached for her napkin. “So, Aunt Gertrude, did you check with Grandmama’s nurse today? How is she faring?”

Her aunt’s forehead furrowed at once
. “I did indeed. Bad news, very bad news, I’m afraid. She’s worsened, still not at all fit for company. In fact, it’s possible that she will not have recovered enough for visitors before you must return to Ashbourne. I’m sorry, dear. I hope you’ve not grown tired of my company.”

“No, of course not,” Jane murmured, her heart sinking
. As always, it was impossible to argue with the woman. As one day had passed into the next, Jane had grown more and more frustrated. All her pleas to see her grandmother had been rebuked, brushed off with one excuse after another. She’d found herself banished to the south wing of the house, entreated to leave her grandmother to her rest, to stay away from the locked west wing that housed the purportedly ill woman.

Aunt Gertrude herself spent a great deal of time resting, and Jane passed much of each day in solitude, sitting in the garden with a book or exploring the grounds on foot, often taking her midday meal in her own room, perhaps the tidiest in the house thanks to Bridgette’s attentions
. She shared a quiet dinner each evening with her aunt, who almost immediately retired as soon as the dishes were cleared from the table.

The only subjects her aunt seemed willing to discuss at length were fanciful tales of her own youth
–stories which Jane had to admit were highly entertaining, albeit shocking. Why, her mother would surely swoon if she knew Aunt Gertrude was regaling her with stories about stolen kisses and transparent gowns worn without proper undergarments!

Yet she couldn’t listen to her aunt’s talk without her thoughts being drawn reluctantly to the mysterious and confounding Lord Westfield
. Every time she remembered the kiss they’d shared, her cheeks burned with renewed shame and mortification. Thank goodness she had come to her senses when she did. She wished more than once that she’d never met him, never felt the stirring of longings that he’d stoked within her. For she had to admit that he
had
awakened something inside her, something she could not explain nor understand. Surely with some fortitude she could push such feelings from her mind, as she’d always done when any gentleman had piqued her interest in the past.

“Anyway, dear
. Where was I?”  Her aunt continued on, her eyes shining brightly. “Oh, yes. Major Barnaby. Of course. Now then, my sister and I were desperate for the major to take notice of us, for he was the handsomest officer we’d ever laid eyes on and there were so many pretty girls in Bath that summer. We had heard that he would be attending the theatre that evening, so we dampened down our dresses to the point of transparency and left off our shifts.”  She covered her mouth with her napkin and giggled like a girl, delighted by her memories.

“Oh, Auntie, did you really?”

“We did, indeed. Of course, so did half the girls there that night. Why, everywhere you looked you could see...ahem.”  A coughing fit overtook her.

Jane felt her cheeks flush
. “And what happened? Did the major notice you?”

“I’m afraid he did not
. But it was that very same night that the baron first noticed your grandmama, and they were wed before St. Michaelmas.”

“Fascinating.”  Jane reached for her goblet and took a sip of sweet wine
.

“Well, I’m afraid I must retire now
. You’re a dear, though, allowing a silly old lady to prattle on all night. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“On the contrary, Aunt Gertrude
. I’m enjoying your delightful tales. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to join me in the drawing room? I see you’ve a harp in there, and I can play tolerably well.”

“No, dear
. Perhaps tomorrow. But you should feel free to play if you so desire.”  She rose and crossed over to Jane, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Good night, then.”

“Good night, Auntie.”  Jane dropped her hands into her lap with a sigh as the woman strode out
.

It was too early for Jane to retire and she didn’t feel at all like sitting alone in the drawing room, so instead she hurried upstairs, changed into her nightclothes, and began a letter by candlelight to her sister Susanna
. She knew Susanna would adore Aunt Gertrude’s tales, so she attempted to retell as many of the shocking details as she could remember. But her attention was flagging, her ability to fill the page with cheerful words waning.

She knew in her heart that something must be wrong in this house, terribly wrong, for such secrecy
. Why else would her aunt go to such lengths to keep her away from her own flesh and blood? As her frustration increased, so did her determination. Looking up from her letter she saw the moon framed in the window, the line of trees along the drive illuminated by the silvery glow.

Her resolve gathered
. She would not allow her concerns to be brushed off so easily. She’d come all this way, allowing herself a flicker of hope. For years she’d been shielded from the truth, denied the knowledge she needed to effectively chart the course of her life. She stood, tightening the belt of dressing gown with grim resolve.

She would find out
. Now.

She reached for the candle and held it aloft as she padded across the room and pushed open the door, listening for any signs of movement in the darkened house
. There were none. She hurried down the curving stair and across the great hall, one hand cupped in front of the candle’s flame.

Reaching the entrance to the west wing, she reached for the cut-glass doorknob with a trembling hand
. Her eyes widened with surprise.
It was unlocked
.

She struggled to turn the handle, her palm slippery with perspiration
. At last, she stepped into a long hall lined with floor-to-ceiling windows all draped in musty, worn plum velvet. The brilliant light of the moon crept in between the seams, casting long, slanted beams across the bare floorboards. She took two tentative steps forward, her heart pounding in her breast.
Just breathe
, she told herself.

Along the left side of the corridor, a row of doors lined the wall
. Further down the hall, a cantilevered staircase rose in a graceful, curved sweep. Her grandmama was likely housed upstairs, she reasoned, as most of the bedchambers seemed to be on the first floor, one flight up.

Struggling valiantly to regulate her breathing, she moved forward on silent feet, her eyes darting about to take in the fleur-de-lis pattern on the walls, peeling at the edges
. From somewhere in the house, a cool breeze stirred, caressing her calves and sending the hem of her dressing gown aflutter. Jane turned with a start as the heavy door that she’d left ajar rattled shut on creaking hinges behind her. Her heart leapt, accelerating at an alarming speed.

“Oh!” she cried, one hand rising to her mouth
. An icy coldness flowed through her veins, and she shivered almost violently.

The heavy silence was broken by footsteps
–quick, efficient footsteps, gaining in speed and volume. Jane stood frozen in terror, unable to move a muscle or utter a single sound.

“Miss Gertrude?” a sharp, feminine voice called out from the direction of the staircase
. “Are you about?” 

A stout old woman appeared at the end of the hall, her hair tucked neatly under a crisp, white cap
. When her gaze flitted to Jane, one plump hand rose to her breast. “Oh, miss, you frightened me. You must be Lady Bassford’s granddaughter. Here now, hurry back to your own room like a good girl. This is no place for a lady such as yourself.”