Page 63 of An Engagement with the Enemy

“Best take a shawl if you’re having a walk, miss. The night air can be cool.” Bessie looked over her shoulder. “And I’d perhaps take the servants’ east staircase.”

Snatching a shawl from the end of her bed, Jessica hurried out the door and gave her maid a grateful touch on her hand. “Thank you, Bessie. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll wait,” Bessie said, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Remind Mr. Aldwick to behave himself.”

Jessica didn’t even ask how Bessie knew it was James. She smothered a laugh with her hand and hurried to the servants’ stairway. Her courage wouldn’t fail her this time. She would tell James everything. And, if he was willing to take a risk on her, she’d follow wherever he led.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A long day had kept James away from Fairbrook Lodge and Jessica. First, he’d spent an hour in his mother’s room, listening and asking dozens of questions. She’d told him to come to his father’s study an hour after that, where both his parents listened to him and advised him. He hadn’t experienced such an earnest conversation with the two of them in years. At the conclusion of that meeting, James had spent the day with their guests at the fair. He’d even seen Jessica’s cousins again, and Mr. Holly, but no sign of Jessica.

Impatience to see her had plagued him, but only because he was so certain of what he had to say. He’d rehearsed it all to himself again and again in his mind. He knew he should wait. Perhaps until the fair was over, or her family left. But he’d lost so much time already. Years and years of it, while he was busy teasing and tormenting her.

When he could have been loving her.

The warm summer air enveloped James as he crept through the moonlit gardens of Fairbrook Lodge. Frogs hidden in the garden sang their nightly songs, a peaceful chorus accompanied only by the soft scraping of his boots on the garden path. Up ahead, the ivy-covered walls of the manor house came into view.

Jessica’s bedchamber window was on the third story, overlooking the roses. He and Leo used to toss pebbles at it when they were boys, mischief-makers on a mission to vex her. How different his purpose was tonight.

James paused beneath her window, heart pounding. He picked up a small stone from the ground and steeled his nerves. Perhaps it was too soon, and she’d refuse to see him. Even so, he wouldn’t give up on her, on them. He had to know if she felt the same.

With a well-aimed toss, the pebble sailed through the air and tapped the glass pane. James held his breath, peering up. A faint light glowed in her room. Shadows shifted behind the curtains. Then, the window opened. Jessica’s face appeared, her eyes wide and expression uncertain.

“James?” she whispered in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you, Jess,” he replied, voice hushed but earnest. The whole garden went quiet, as though the frogs and the birds all listened for an answer with him.

Jessica didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll be right down.”

He exhaled in relief as she withdrew into her room. His pulse raced in anticipation. The night breeze rustled through trees and flower bushes. Somewhere an owl hooted, deep and lonesome. He tried not to think it an ill omen. It couldn’t be.

James paced the garden path, too anxious to stand still as he awaited Jessica’s arrival. He rehearsed what he wanted to say again and again in his mind. A confession of love, an assurance he wanted her just as she was, an apology for ever making her doubt.

Pebbles clattered, and he turned to see Jessica slip out a side door into the garden. Moonlight illuminated her face as she approached, highlighting the uncertainty in her eyes. Every word of his carefully planned speech vanished as he stood in awe of her.

“You look beautiful tonight, Jess,” he said instead, voice hushed.

She ducked her head, a smile touching her lips. “Good evening to you, too, James.”

He came forward, taking her hand without pause. “Come with me? Just behind the wall. Where no one will see.”

Her nod was brief, but she didn’t take her hand from him. He counted that a good sign as he led her as silently as he could down the path, through the stone archway, and to the other side of the wall. Once there, he put the stone wall against his back and held her hand, staring down at her.

Without a word, she returned his gaze, her eyes searching his in the darkness. He wished there was more than the light of the moon to see every detail of her upturned face. “I should tell you how lovely you are more often,” he said without meaning to speak aloud. He’d had a speech prepared, dash it all. But his tongue didn’t seem keen to use the prepared words. “Every time I’ve seen you, for years now, I’ve thought you beautiful.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Even when I called you a scarecrow?” Mischief, familiar and new at the same time, glittered in her eyes.

“Even then,” he admitted with an amused huff. “I was all elbows and knees, spindly arms and legs, and you already had that elegant, statuesque look about you.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “That isn’t what you used to compare me to.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I was a fool. I’m here to make amends for everything. If you’ll let me.”

Her gaze softened as the night air wrapped them in the scent of her gardens, roses and lavender and warm earth. “I was a silly little thing, too. Forgive me?”

“Always.” He pulled her closer and gave a helpless shake of his head. “I have something I must tell you. Indeed, I’d planned out what I would say. But the moment you stepped into the moonlight, I forgot every word of it.”

“Perhaps I can help.” She took his other hand. “It all started with throwing a rock at my window.”