Page 19 of An Engagement with the Enemy

“James?” she questioned, trying to mask her surprise. “What brings you here? Is Catherine well?”

His eyes flicked toward her before shifting awkwardly to the flowers, the man appearing oddly out of place in the lush serenity of the garden.

“Yes, yes. She’s perfectly well. I needed a walk, though, and thought I’d see the famed Westcote roses,” he offered, his voice holding a touch of nervousness that was rather unlike him.

Jessica raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, she watched as James fumbled with his next words, mumbling something about the unique hue of the petals. It was clear that he was out of his element, and her suspicion only grew.

“Are you certain you wished to speak to me about roses?” she asked, and his deep brown gaze snapped up to meet hers.

Thunder rumbled above them.

“There was one other thing.” He straightened to his full height and winced. “I thought we might—”

The skies chose that moment to open, the anticipated rain falling in fat, heavy drops at a speed that would soon soak them both. Jessica reacted quickly, ducking under a nearby ivy-covered archway for shelter. James followed suit, a sense of urgency replacing his previous awkwardness. Once under the relatively little protection of the stone arch, James glared up at the sky.

They stood quite close. Both of them avoiding the droplets falling from the greenery. Jessica looked down the pathway to the house. If the storm moved along quickly, she wouldn’t mind being stuck under the ivy. Alone. But with James there, taking up more than half the dry area, she’d happily risk catching a cold by making a run for it. She glanced at him as he removed his hat to keep it from butting up against the stone above them.

Would it be rude to leave him behind in the inadequate shelter? Most likely.

James’s eyes found hers. They spoke at the same time, both shouting to be heard over the drumming rain.

“We should run for the house.”

“I’ve had an idea.”

Jessica blinked at him. “To get out of the rain?” she asked, then pointed. “As I said, we can run for the house.”

He shook his head. “Not about the rain. About our situation. The marriage problem.” His gaze held a determined glint that piqued her curiosity despite her wariness.

“An idea?” she shouted back, trying to keep her voice steady over the rain’s tumultuous rhythm.

“What do you think of working together?” he proposed, his voice rising above the rain and echoing around the garden. “We could help each other by sabotaging potential suitors.”

His words hung in the air, their implication lingering even as the rain attempted to drown out everything else. Jessica felt a rush of surprise and, she had to admit, a spark of intrigue. James, wanting to work with her? It was as unexpected as the summer downpour.

Generally, even when the two of them agreed on something, they batted the subject back and forth as though they didn’t. It had always been their way, to mildly harass if they couldn’t outright challenge and debate one another.

“How would that help either of us?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and keeping her gaze trained on his. “How would such a thing even work?”

“Simple.” James grinned down at her. “My father will not tolerate the idea of me rejecting every female who comes my way, but if the ladies themselves are not interested, he can hardly object. Lady Emily is the perfect example of that. She found my conversation boring. Tedious, was the word she used, though she said it in German.”

Jessica smirked. “I cannot say I blame her for the comment or the language in which she delivered it.” She shook her head. “What would you have me do? And do you truly need my help? I think any lady who comes to know you as well as I do will immediately turn and flee the county even without my influence.”

Rather than glower at her, as he usually would when she delivered such an insult, his eyes gleamed with approval. “That is precisely what I want. You will tell each of the eligible guests exactly what you think of me. Lay my every fault and failing bare before them, as though you wish to drop a helpful hint rather than dissuade them. You are clever enough to bring up such things in conversation, are you not?”

“Of course I am,” she said with some irritation. “I best you in most of our conversations, do I not?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. It is not as though I keep score on such things.”

“Perhaps you should. Noting your failures is one certain path toward finding ways to improve.”

“Would that comment be a point in your favor?”

“Most of my comments would be, of course.” She waved her hands between them, trying to dismiss the absurd line of conversation in favor of returning to the point. “The matter at hand is what concerns me. You want me to tell women of standing, the daughters of influential and titled men, everything I think is wrong with you?”

A wicked excitement pulsed through her, and Jessica didn’t immediately push it aside. It was as though Christmas had come early.

Perhaps something of her feelings showed in her expression because James finally narrowed his eyes at her. “Nothing scandalous, of course, or untrue. My family’s reputation must remain intact, and if I find someone I actually wish to marry—someday, in the far distant future—I would not have her warned away because I am a Bluebeard or some such thing.”