Chapter 24
Fergus MacEwen handed Lady Jane Montfort down and Perry hastened to greet her.
She hugged the older woman, relieved that it wasn’t Bakeley appearing at her door. “Why are you here?” she asked. “Oh, never mind, you are meant to be my chaperone, no doubt.”
Lady Jane held her at arm’s length and looked her over, frowning. “What has happened here?” She turned the scowl on Fox. “You. You’re Mr. Fox. The American painter.”
He bowed. “At your service, ma’am.”
“Fox, this is Lady Jane Montfort, a dear friend of Sirena’s, and my friend as well. Lady Jane, Mr. Fox and I are affianced.” She crossed her fingers. “Father has just given his approval.”
Jane’s scowl deepened and she waved a hand at Perry. “You are not the one who caused this, are you?”
“No,” Perry and Fox said at the same time.
He sent her a look that had shame roaring through her. Because of her foolishness, he was destined to be misunderstood.
And trapped in a marriage he didn’t want.
“You must be very tired,” he said, “and Lady Perry is exhausted.”
Perry nodded. Making peace with Fox would have to wait. “Come then,” she said woodenly. “I’ll take you up.”
Hours later,Perry woke to the sound of movement below stairs.
“We have visitors?” The sleep-slurred voice next to her broke the room’s silence.
Perry sat up. “I believe so.” She glanced at her bed companion.
“I know I’m not the sleeping companion you wished for, my dear, but your reputation will be safer with me,” Lady Jane had said while she’d climbed into bed earlier.
Lady Jane was a spinster poor relation of Lord Cheswick making do on a small inheritance while rescuing young ladies’ reputations. Since she’d moved into Shaldon House, Father also had apparently found a use for her.
Perry rubbed her eyes and smiled. Lady Jane’s bed cap had slipped, and the lacing on her nightrail had come undone, revealing a plump freckled shoulder. She looked like a wanton tavern wench and not at all like a lady of middling years. Straggling across the feather stuffed pillow was a long wheaten plait, the color not much different than Perry’s own, except for some fine lacings of white shot through it.
Perry threw back the covers and went to the window. The morning had gone to gray with a heavy cloud cover, but it was bright enough to be afternoon. A single horse was tied up in front.
Not a Cransdall horse, she decided, unless one of her brothers had arrived on one of the plodders that worked the fields.
She crossed to the dressing room and peeked in. Jenny was up and gone. She would just have to dress herself.
“Come,” Jane said next to her. “We’ll help each other.” She ducked into the dressing room where her trunk had been lodged.
Perry blinked back sudden tears. Her three brothers’ marriages had brought three sisters and this kind, wise woman into their family. Jane hadn’t chided or lectured her about Fox.
She would hate to be cut off from these new friendships.
Fox must keep her alive, Father had said. How hard could that be now, with Father and so many of his men here? This was Yorkshire, after all, and not some Peninsular battleground.
She peeled her nightrail up and caught her breath, a sharp pain stabbing her. She’d almost forgotten.
Well, perhaps there were dangers here, but she’d be safe if she stayed close to Fox. The need to see him, to touch him, swamped her, and she hurried to dress.
Fox groundthe beans himself and carried up the coffee tray to the dining table where Shaldon, Kincaid, and Farnsworth sat.
Lady Jane’s chaise had accommodated more provisions, and this one—coffee—they all needed. The faces around the table were haggard from years of such fast travel and long nights and worries.
“I’ll need to leave soon to meet the Lieutenant,” Farnsworth said. “Seas will be calmer. They’ll try again to land tonight.”
