Shaking off the unwelcome comparison and wondering if he were mad to still crave after Jane when he had been so thoroughly satisfied with Aurora, he vowed to put Jane from his thoughts and concentrate on finding his masked seductress again. A woman more suitable for him to pursue.
Aurora had come to him. He could only hope she would do so again. After tonight he would never get her out of his blood, much less his thoughts.
“Ah, then you must continue looking.”
Seth’s head snapped back in Gregory’s direction. “Looking?” he echoed, wondering how Knightly had read his thoughts.
“For your bride.”
“Oh.” Realizing Knightly discussed Miss Manchester, he lowered himself to a chair and tugged off his boots.
“Forgive me, but you seem distracted tonight.”
Removing his last boot, Seth fell back into the chair and looked Gregory steadily in the face. “I met someone.”
“Did you? Who is she?”
The scent of her swirled around him. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, taking the scent of apples deep within himself.
“I don’t know. She did not give her name.” Just her body.
Knightly’s brows rose.
Seth stared broodingly across the room, thumping the arm of the chair lightly with his fist. “I will find her.”
Knightly bent to collect his discarded boots. “Generally, people are only found when they wish to be.”
“I must see her again.”
“Perhaps you should focus on finding a bride you like half as much as this mystery woman. Or have you changed your mind about marrying?”
Seth considered that, wishing he could quit the whole notion of matrimony. But he couldn’t. All he had to do was think of his cousin, and the risk he presented to Julianne. Seth had to wed, and hopefully, beget an heir or two to keep Harold well in his place.
“I’ll find a bride,” he asserted, simultaneously vowing that he would never cease looking for Aurora.
Recalling the way she had moved against him, the way he had felt buried deep inside her, he knew he would never be free of her.
He would have her again.
After departing Lucy’s, Jane crept up the servant’s staircase, holding her breath until she reached her bedroom door. Hand on the latch, the tension flowed from her shoulders as she pushed the door in and walked inside. A lamp burned low on the dresser, filling the room with dancing shadows.
“Late night, my dear?”
She spun around, her heart in her throat.
“D—Desmond.”
“I warned you, Jane.” He advanced on her slowly, the thud of his every step a stab to her heart. “Where have you been?” He slapped his hand against the side of his thigh. “Sneaking off in the middle of the night—”
“I—I was at Lady Shillington’s.” Not strictly a lie.
“Hmm.” He stopped before her, his voice lowering. “Chloris is most displeased. She had to take a tonic to calm her nerves. Put her straight to sleep.” She struggled to hold her ground and not shrink away as he brushed her collarbone above the stiff edge of her bodice. “She wouldn’t hear a cavalry charge.”
Her gaze flitted over her sparsely furnished chamber. “Then perhaps we should wait to discuss this in the morning.”
Turning, she grasped the door’s latch in her hand again, determined to usher him from the room. He grabbed her wrist, squeezing the bones until they ached.
“Chloris thinks we should send you away.”
She lifted her chin a notch and tried not to wince at his grip on her wrist. “Why don’t you?”
“You would like that,” he growled. “I told you there’s only one way out of this house.”
“Never will I accept your disgusting proposition.”
His small eyes flashed in his gaunt face. “As I was reflecting upon your defiance this evening and trying to come up with a proper punishment, I realized taking your clothes and jewelry was merely a child’s reprimand.” He paused, his gaze crawling over her. “You’re no child, Jane.”
The tiny hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle as he stepped nearer. She held her breath, waiting for his words to fall.
“Your maid,” he began. “She has been with you some years now, correct?”
Her chest suddenly grew tight, the ability to draw breath difficult. “Anna?” she asked warily.
“Precisely how long has the old bird been with you?” He stared at her, unblinking, waiting for her answer.
With great reluctance, she replied, “She was my nurse.”
“Ah.” He nodded, a strange smile curving his thin lips.
“What?” she demanded.
“It’s a shame, that is all.”
“A shame,” she echoed.
“Yes. I fear, you shall miss her,” he drawled in tones of false sympathy.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve dismissed her. Moments ago, in fact.”
“Dismissed her?”
“I say, Jane. You’re usually not this slow to grasp matters.”
“Where is she?” she demanded, anger churning her stomach.
“I told you. I have released her from my employ.”
“You have no right,” she cried. Jerking free, she pushed open the door, intent on finding Anna.
He grabbed her by the arm and spun her back around, slamming her back against the door with enough force to rattle her teeth.
“I have every right,” he snapped, all pretense at kindness gone. “Until Matthew comes of age, I shall make all decisions regarding this family. Regarding you. I warned you not to challenge me.”
Desperation, thick and cold, clawed at her heart. She struggled against his hold.
“Please, Desmond. Anna is…” she choked on a sob, words woefully inadequate. Everything. All I have. The only one who has loved me all of my life.
“Perhaps I’ll reconsider.” He shrugged, his voice slithering through her like a snake gliding through grass. “Much depends on you. On your cooperation.”
“You can’t dismiss her! Where will she go?”
“It’s not my habit to follow the comings and goings of a servant no longer in my employ.”
“You cannot do this,” she hissed, hands clenching at her sides. “I’ve done nothing to warrant—”
“Desmond.” A voice rang out from the corridor, sharp and grating. Apparently Chloris’s tonic had not been strong enough, after all. “Have you finished with Jane?”
Have you finished with Jane? As if she were some disobedient child that required scolding.
“Yes, Chloris. For now.” With a look promising more to come, he released her and slipped from the room.
Alone in her room, she leaned against the hard length of the door, taking comfort in its temporary barrier.
“I trust she apologized,” Chloris’s voice drifted through the door. “I won’t even hazard a guess as to where she’s been. Or what she’s been doing.”
Jane bit the inside of her cheek to stifle the acerbic retort she longed to shout. Turning, she dragged a chair from her desk and propped it against the door. However inadequate, it reassured her. She assessed her small quarters, pacing with long strides, back and forth, back and forth, missing Anna, her comfort, her presence, steady as the tide. Her heart hammered wildly, like a butterfly trapped in her chest, beating about for escape.
Worry for Anna filled her. In the dead of night, with no place to turn, where would she go? Jane shook her head, then drew in a long, steadying breath. Anna was no shrinking flower. She would be fine. She would contact Jane. A sob scalded the back of her throat, scratchy and hot, but she held it in.
“Damn you, Desmond,” she swore, her voice small as she sank onto the bed, dropping her head onto the pillow.
Her hand slid beneath the pillow to bring the fresh linen closer to her face and her fingertips met something that crinkled. Sitting up, she pulled back the pillow to stare at a piece of folded parchment. Frowning, she grasped it with g
reedy fingers and quickly unfolded the small square, hope unfurling in her chest.
A deep sigh escaped her lungs as she scanned the note from Anna. She pressed the missive to her heart as relief flowed through her. Anna had gone to Lucy’s. Jane must have just missed her. She was safe. That was enough. That was all that mattered.
Burying her face in the pillow, she gave in to the tears, unsure why she wept. Because Anna had been taken from her and she was well and truly alone? Or because of Seth? Because tonight had been wonderful, better than the dreams that had followed her these many years…and suddenly everything in her life seemed dimmer than ever before?
Chapter 14
Jane stared at the missive, blinking several times before refolding it and slipping it back in its envelope. Stubbornly, she resisted the weakening of her will and carefully smoothed out the envelope’s crinkled edges, pretending not to feel the hard, watchful eyes across the table, pretending not to hear the whispers in her head that urged her to accept the invitation, to run, to flee. If only for an afternoon.
It was the third letter from Julianne in the last fortnight—penned in Rebecca’s hand. Again, she requested Jane’s company. Today the request was for a drive in the park.
The very prospect both tempted and dismayed. Dismay won out…as it had in the face of Julianne’s previous letters. It was the chance of facing Seth that had her declining Julianne’s invitations. Weeks had passed since Vauxhall, but in no way did she possess the nerve to face Seth again. Not this soon. Perhaps not ever.
“Who is that from?” Chloris demanded.
“Lady Julianne invited me to join her in the park.” Jane saw no reason to keep the truth from her. It wasn’t as if she would be accepting Julianne’s invitation. This day or any other.
“Again?” Chloris muttered, her tone aggrieved as she stirred her tea, the spoon clanking the inside of her cup. “Doesn’t she have anything better to do than plague you? Well…” Chloris’s lips twisted in a semblance of a smile and she answered herself. “Likely not, poor creature.”
Jane pushed aside her barely touched food. Her stomach had been off lately, ever since losing Anna, and Chloris’s company did nothing if not sour it further. Rising, she dropped her napkin on the table. Even morning lessons with her nieces held greater appeal than a leisurely breakfast with Chloris.
“I promised to take Bryony shopping,” Chloris announced. “Her birthday is next week, you know.”
Yes, Jane knew. The girl had been working industriously on her wish list for the last several months, to the neglect of her lessons. “I suppose Dahlia and Iris can come, too. Although Iris has the most wretched tendency to fidget.” Chloris’s nose wrinkled, her discontent clear. “We will need at least three maids to carry parcels. And an extra footman.” Chloris wiped the corners of her mouth with a fastidiousness that set Jane’s teeth on edge. “See to that, will you?”
She hesitated, feeling suddenly bold. What did she have to lose by asserting herself? Desmond had seen fit to rob her of anything that mattered. “Since you intend to take the girls to Bond Street, I will make free with my morning.”
“What?”
“I’m in need of a respite.”
“Respite?” Chloris echoed.
Jane turned to leave.
Chloris called after her. “You’ve become annoyingly contrary of late, Jane.”
Contrary. Jane let the word roll around her head, deciding she liked the sound of it.
A glance over her shoulder revealed helpless frustration on Chloris’s face. “The sooner you remember your role in this household, the better.” Anxiety threaded Chloris’s voice, betraying her bluster.
Your role. The words ricocheted through Jane’s head, begging to be challenged. Her tone deliberately offhand, she asked, “Better for whom?”
Chloris broke eye contact, ignoring the question entirely. Setting down her cup, her hand trembled. “Take the morning off,” Chloris said, as if it were her suggestion. “But see that you’re ready for the girls after lunch. I’m certain I’ll be weary from shopping.”
Fed by the same impulse that had guided her of late, that drove her to be bold, defiant, Jane lingered in the threshold, her fingers curling at her side. “I think I shall catch up on my correspondence to Matthew,” she drawled. “I will be sure to let him know you’re faring well in Town and enjoying his home and all the marvelous shops on Bond Street.”
Color rushed Chloris’s face.
Satisfied, Jane turned and left the room.
Contrary, she mused as she made her way up the stairs, letting herself, briefly, consider donning her mask and seeking out Seth again. Then she shook her head. No, that would be something more than contrary. That would be reckless, unwise. No matter how her heart wished it, she could never be Aurora again. Sooner or later he would discover that it was she behind the mask.
A small shiver coursed through her.
But then, perhaps that was what she wanted.
A week later, Jane found herself frozen in the threshold of her drawing room. Fighting to swallow the lump in her suddenly tight throat, she entered the room, unsure whether to be grateful that Chloris and Desmond were not present to bar her from leaving the schoolroom and receiving callers.
Not that she had been presenting the day’s geography lesson with any great expertise. Her gaze continually strayed to the window that faced the gardens, letting the rare sunlight warm her face.
As always, her thoughts lingered on Seth and their one night and how she might learn to accept that nothing as thrilling or wonderful would ever happen to her again.
And now he stood before her. As fiercely handsome as she remembered, even with his menacing scar and eyes that looked on her with no knowledge of the intimacy they had shared. A perplexing annoyance that. To be flooded with titillating sensation just at the sight of him, to recall the fullness of him moving inside, the heated friction of their bodies coming together…and know that he recalled none of it when he looked at her.
Julianne sat on a sofa, her brother looming on his feet beside her. Lifting her face in Jane’s direction, she apologized, “Forgive us for calling unannounced. I know from your letters you’ve been busy.”
“Yes,” Seth drawled. “Our apologies for interrupting your busy day, but my sister has missed your company.”
His voice was thick with accusation, justifiably so. Her face burned in shame, recalling her promise to visit Julianne again.
She pasted a brittle smile to her face, hoping it stayed in place as she lowered to a chair. “How kind of you to come, Julianne. Your company is always welcome.” She lifted her gaze to Seth. “Would you not care for a seat, my lord?”
He held her gaze for a moment, the anger and accusation still there. Finally, he gave a curt nod and sat beside his sister.
“Today is Rebecca’s afternoon off and I convinced Seth to take me out,” Julianne volunteered cheerfully.
“Harassed is a more accurate word,” Seth supplied, a twist to his mouth that almost resembled a smile.
“Oh, very well, harassed.” She waved her hand in the air, unbothered. “It wasn’t as if you were doing anything. You’ve moped about the house now for weeks and been surly as a bear.”
Jane cocked an eyebrow. Why would Seth mope about? Certainly it had nothing to do with their tryst at Vauxhall? That would be too much to hope for. True, his furious shouts still echoed in her head at night, but she credited that to male pride and her eluding him, not any true sense of loss.
“We’re in Town,” Julianne continued. “Might we not actually step outside? Enjoy the Season? Go somewhere exciting?”
Seth’s expression grew shuttered. His lips tightened. For some reason, Jane felt the unreasonable need to defend him. “I’m sure your brother experienced quite enough excitement while abroad and desires only a little peace now.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes, and she looked away, regretting her impulse to defend him.
“Perhaps,” Julianne allow
ed. “But while he was off playing war I’ve had enough peace to last a lifetime.”
“Did I not relent and bring you here today?” he asked, leaning back and throwing an arm along the back of the sofa.
“Yes, curious that.” A teasing smile lifted the corners of Julianne’s mouth. “You’ve denied nearly all my other requests at social outings. I almost suspect you wanted to see Lady Jane.”
Heat lit her face.
Seth stared at Jane for a long moment before murmuring, “Perhaps.”
Jane wrenched her gaze away. Hoping to detract from the conversation’s embarrassing turn, she motioned to the tea ser vice one of the servants had left. “Would you care for tea? A biscuit?”
“Yes, that would be lovely,” Julianne replied.
Jane poured and rose to secure the cup and saucer in Julianne’s hands. “I hope it’s warm enough. Lord St. Claire?” Turning, she looked down at Seth. Her breath caught to find him evaluating her person. His gaze traveled over her with a thoroughness that heated her face even more.
“Lord St. Claire?” she asked, her voice sharp.
His gaze snapped to hers.
“Tea?”
“Yes. Thank you,” he murmured, accepting the cup. His eyes glowed with a mocking light. The wretch. Surely he would not leer at her if his sister could see him.
She sat down hard on her seat, feeling unreasonably angry. Had he forgotten his midnight lover so quickly that he could leer at another lady? Clearly he did not pine for his Aurora. Likely their one time was already forgotten.
He lifted his cup in salute, his expression taunting as she lowered herself back into her chair.
In that moment, she wished she could tell him the truth—that she was Aurora. If for no other reason than to wipe that smug look off his face. He thought he knew her so well. Thought her just another Spencer, cut from the same cloth as her sister. A lady to mock, to scorn. Simply someone Julianne persisted in calling upon, someone who inconvenienced his life with her unwelcome friendship with his sister.