Page 37 of The Devil to Pay

“I see you’ve all ruined yourselves,” she said, quirking an eyebrow at the large pile of buttons at Mark’s elbow.

“Oh, Lina, it was only a bit of fun,” Abigail said crossly. “Don’t scold us.”

Mark was watching her. She could feel his eyes upon her, but she refused to meet them, not wanting to see what he thought of her now.

“I wasn’t going to scold you, Abigail,” Lina said, finding the words sounded rather defensive, but hurt to have been accused so. Was this how they all saw her, as a tyrant who spoiled their fun? “It looks like you’re having a lovely time. Do carry on, but I think Benjamin had best go up for his bath. It’s very nearly bedtime, my lamb.”

“No, Lina!” Ben protested.

“Bath, and warm milk and a biscuit if you are very good,” she added judiciously, her heart easing a little as Ben scrambled from Mark’s lap, only to squeeze hard as the boy turned his face up to the man.

“Night, night,” he said, holding his arms out in the expectation of a kiss.

An expression of surprise flickered across Mark’s face, but then he smiled, and it lit his green eyes with warmth and pleasure as he bent and hugged the little boy, kissing his cheek.

“Good night, Benjamin. Thank you for playing with me.”

“Fanks,” Benjamin said with a nod and hurried to Selina, who lost no time in picking him up and taking him away.

She heard Mark call out an invitation for her to join them, once Benjamin was settled, but she pretended not to hear him, and closed the door behind her.

Jules gathered up the buttons and returned them to the biscuit tin they’d come from. He’d sent the others up to bed as it was late now, though he was touched by their protests that they wanted to keep playing. Jules had been surprised to discover how much he liked them all, for outside of his own family he spent little time with such young people, but they were funny and good natured. Lina had done well with them since her mother died, for her father had obviously never had a hand in their upbringing.

Putting the lid back on the tin with a sigh, Jules wondered what he was playing at. He ought to be gone by now. Hell, he ought to have gone back to stay with Pip last night if he’d had an ounce of sense. It appeared any remaining sense had left him, though, because he still couldn’t make himself leave. Not yet, at least.

They’d broken the back of the library today. With Jacob, Abigail and Charlie all pitching in, it had gone swiftly, and they had promised to finish the job for Selina. Which meant he had no reason to still be here. He couldn’t just leave, though. Not without saying goodbye, at least.

She must know he was still here, he reasoned. So, surely she would come to bid him goodnight or throw him out. Davenport would have no qualms in doing so if he outstayed his welcome, which he most certainly had. He ought never to have spoken to her as he had this morning. He’d wanted to make her see herself as he did, that was all, he assured himself. It was just a crying shame to see such a woman hide herself away and let her family take advantage of her loyalty and kindness. He did not wish to think of her as ending her days as an old maid, dependent on a sibling’s charity for a roof over her head. It was clear the family were hardly plump in the pocket. That was the only reason he had said such indelicate things in any case. He had not been flirting with her, wooing her, God help him. He hadn’t. Because that would be idiocy.

Davenport would make some man a fine wife. A political man, perhaps, one with ambition. Lord, a woman like that could run the country herself, never mind manage a man who wished to do so.

She’d make a magnificent duchess.

The thought came out of nowhere and struck him so hard he felt quite winded by it.

His mother would adore her.

“No!” he said aloud, shaking his head vigorously, as if anyone else but him had come up with the idea. “You’ve run mad, Jules, old man. Too much time rusticating, that’s what it is. You need a drink.”

He headed to the tantalus he’d spied earlier, tucked away behind a daunting stack of Greek classics, and let out a breath of relief to discover it was unlocked. Giving the contents a dubious sniff, the scent of fine brandy reassured him, and so he poured himself a generous measure. He downed it in two large swallows and poured another, relieved by the puddle of warmth that unfurled in his guts. Another couple like that and he might be able to get his shoulders back where they belonged instead of up around his ears. Deciding he had best distract himself, he carried on putting the books on the shelves, but tension still sang through him, and he was considering pouring himself a third, large measure, when the door opened.

“This is above and beyond,” observed a cool voice.

Jules turned to see the woman who occupied far too much of his mind in the doorway. She had changed from this morning’s dishwater monstrosity but was wearing the dismal brown carriage dress she had worn into town. His fingers itched with the desire to take it off her and dress her in rich satins and velvet, in shades of deep forest green and russet and even purple. How splendid she would look, like an empress.

However, offering to buy an unmarried lady a new wardrobe would end with him either getting his face slapped or marched up the aisle, so he held his tongue.

“Just passing the time. I thought I had best see you before I leave.”

She nodded, her face impassive. “You’re going back to town, I imagine. I only wonder you lasted this long.”

Indignation prickled down his spine. Did she think him such a fribble that he did not enjoy the countryside, that he could not bear to be away from society for more than a week or two before he grew bored? “Not immediately. I’ll be staying with friends nearby for a little longer.”

She looked mildly surprised, but did not enquire as to which friends, or where exactly he would be. Jules told himself this was a good thing and he ought to be relieved. He wasn’t.

“I see.”

“Do you?” he asked irritably.