Page 13 of An Engagement with the Enemy

James blinked. He knew the name, but not whatever circumstance his sister alluded to. Jessica didn’t seem to suffer the same lack of knowledge, given her instant and vehement response.

“That spiteful woman’s complete lack of propriety and manners ought never be forgotten by anyone. It is a good thing you told your parents, as she deserved the set-down your mother gave her. If I had been anywhere near when Lady Joana said what she did to you, I’d have called her out.”

Catherine’s dry tone still betrayed some amusement as she responded. “Dueling is illegal. Even for women. Though I thank you for wishing to defend my honor.”

What the blazes had happened between Lady Joana and his sister? And why hadn’t he been told something serious enough for her to take it to their parents? He frowned down at both of them, willing them to say less about his business and more of that event. He’d hardly paid attention to social engagements in London last Season; he’d been far too busy with friends needing him one place or another to give notice to his family’s invitations or comings and goings. Had he missed something of importance?

“Still, I’m not sure I understand what Lady Joana’s misapplied criticisms have to do with your brother finding a bride.” Jessica snorted, and he knew precisely how she looked when she made that unfortunate sound. Her nostrils flared. Her eyes narrowed. And her lips pinched tightly together in disapproval. He’d been the recipient of the look enough times in his life to picture it quite clearly, even though the bonnet she wore shielded her from view.

“Father has worked tirelessly to prove his legitimacy.” Catherine’s voice grew soft. She bent to pluck a cowslip from the ground, the bright buds having somehow escaped the gardener’s spade. They would not escape her enjoyment of all things yellow. “Receiving his title by royal appointment, not to mention his father recognizing his illegitimate son as his heir, isn’t enough for some people.”

Though his seat grew more uncomfortable with each passing moment, James didn’t shift about. He had no wish to give away his presence. Yet Catherine’s mention of the specter that had shadowed their entire family for as long as James remembered made him grasp the branch tighter.

Illegitimacy.

Their lineage wasn’t a secret. It was published in Debrett’s Peerage, for anyone to read the details. James had read them himself when a boy at school had shoved the book in his face to ask what it felt like to descend from a bastard. It was a word James had only heard used to shame and anger others, but it turned out it was the legal definition of his father’s parentage.

That didn’t stop him from giving the smug little brute a facer, though.

He’d also memorized the entry.

Title: Baron Retford

Current Holder: John Aldwick, 1st Baron Retford

Heir Apparent: The Honorable James Aldwick

Status: Extant

Seat: Amoret Castle, Yorkshire

Family Motto: Rosa Prima, Gladii Postrema (Roses First, Swords Last)

Family History: John Aldwick, 1st Baron Retford, received his title by Royal Appointment, though it previously existed and went extinct when his father, John Aldwick, 4th Baron Amoret, died without legitimate issue. Prior to the 4th Baron’s death, he recognized John Aldwick as his illegitimate son and named him as his sole heir, allowing the current baron to inherit lands and wealth.

Eight years after inheriting the estate, John Aldwick married Catherine Ripley, the daughter and heir of Sir Charles Ripley. Subsequently, Lord Retford was created a Baron on June 8, 17__. The issue of Lord and Lady Retford are as follows…

“Your father has held the title for nearly thirty years,” Jessica said with a fierceness that surprised him. “And likely half the peerage has brothers and sisters they know nothing about, living in all the nooks and crannies of England.”

“You are telling me things I already know and have often contemplated.” Catherine laughed and paced beneath the tree, twirling the flowers in her fingers. “Facts rarely change feelings. Father feels looked down upon, and he worries his children will face the same sneers he had to ignore the first time he entered London’s finest drawing rooms. Putting a woman on my brother’s arm, a woman whose family has roots in the oldest houses of England, will solidify James’s place in Society.”

He swallowed, his unease continuing to build as his stomach writhed. His sister had clearly told her friend too much of the situation and the burdens such a thing placed on James’s shoulders. The humiliation of what his family expected of him, and why, sank like a stone within his heart. Jessica Westcote knew the whole of it. All the better to sharpen her knives and barb her tongue with the truth when next they met.

What she said out loud bothered him less than what she thought of him in private. He’d seen it in her eyes, from time to time. Passionate thoughts she’d never given voice to, whether out of propriety or respect for his sister. And it ate at him, knowing she held back. Knowing there were things she didn’t say.

He hated that he cared what she thought. And he didn’t want to hear her give voice to any of it at that moment.

James dropped from the tree, less than a foot behind Jessica’s back.

The woman released a shouted protest and whirled about, both her hands raised and her slim fingers curled into fists, as though ready to box whatever assassin had descended upon them. In her shock, she swung one of those delicate fists, and James had to jerk backward to avoid the connection of her knuckles to his chin.

“James!” his sister shouted, tone full of relief. “Where did you come from?”

Jessica kept her hands raised and her eyes full of gray ice. “You horrible interloper. Why are you spying on us like a sneak thief instead of announcing yourself at once? You are the most uncouth, ungentlemanly person of my acquaintance.”

James regained his composure and his footing enough to smirk at his pretty neighbor. “At first, I hoped the two of you would wander away so I could stay put,” he confessed. “Then your conversation became far too interesting when I found myself the subject of it.”

“Vanity,” Jessica said, her hands finally dropping to her sides where they remained clenched. “Arrogance.”