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The dowager picked up a mirror to check her reflection, patting her rusty hair. “I was merely concerned about the girl.”
“No, you were not. You know what the viscount’s scandals do to her. The least you could have done, if you care as you said, was to spare her sensibilities by not making any mention of the scandal.” The dowager opened her mouth to speak but Jenny was not through.
“I have tolerated your disrespect for long enough and I have reached my limit. You need to know your place and remain within those bounds, duchess. This residence is Nicholas’ and I am the reigning Duchess of Seaton.” She was about to leave when she remembered another point she needed to make. “The servants are people like you and me. It will cost you nothing to accord them the respect they toil day and night for.”
The dowager was taken aback by Jenny’s bold reproach and she did not speak for a protracted moment. Jenny turned on her heels with the intention to return to her laboratory.
"You will appreciate what I have done for you and still do for you, girl!” Jenny did not dignify that with a response and with a sigh, she stepped out of the room, retreating to the safety of her laboratory. The letter she had received earlier was sitting on her work table and she picked it up and opened it.
We often find ourselves growing comfortable in favorable situations. Allow me to advise you, Your Grace. Do not get too comfortable in your good fortune. It may not be rightfully yours.
Where was the letter from? She sat down in a chair and covered her face with her hands, giving the tears she had been holding since the night before permission to flow forth as dread and confusion fought for dominance within her. She missed her husband and she was afraid for their marriage.
* * *
The thought of losing Jenny sent Nicholas into a similar frenzy as the one that had seen him ride without stopping to Heartsbay. He did the same again. Except this time, he rode a fresh mount without stopping back to town. It was well past midnight by the time he returned to the home he shared with Jenny.
"Where is my wife?" he asked Bentley. In his mind, he was married to one woman and that woman was Jennifer Robshaw Brighton. He had found her now, and he would be damned before he let her go.
"I am not certain, Your Grace," Bentley replied, looking bleary-eyed which was understandable, given the hour. "I scarcely saw her today. She did not come down for dinner and did not eat a bite from the tray that was taken to her room."
Nicholas handed Bentley the letter he had written to the Dowager Viscountess of Digby, giving him instructions to have it immediately delivered to the address in London before taking the steps two at a time to his wife's bedchamber.
He did not find her there. He looked in his own bedchamber for her and received the same fruitless yield. Her laboratory and the library were equally empty. In fact, every room in the house with the exception of the servants’ was devoid of her presence.
His blood turned cold and his body tensed. He was on his way to the servants’ quarters to wake them up and begin a search for his wife when he ran straight into someone in the dark stairwell. A warm liquid splashed onto him, the dampness rapidly spreading across his shirt. "Ow!" came her voice.
"Jenny?" Nicholas called, raising the lamp in his hand toward her face. "What are you doing here?"
"What areyoudoing here?" she returned, shaking her hand in an attempt to get rid of the spilled liquid on it. “Shouldn’t you be in Heartsbay?”
“No,” he said, relief threatening to daze him.
"I could not sleep. I came down to get some warm milk," she said, following his eyes to the half-filled glass in her hand. "I did not want to bother the servants. It is just a glass of milk, after all." She shrugged, not looking at him.
“The milk is cold,” he whispered, taking the glass from her and setting it down on a windowsill. He set the lamp down beside it.
“I did not know how to use the stove.” She chuckled, the sound pure and innocent.
His chest constricted and pulled her to him, holding her tightly. “I have missed you, Jenny.”
A sound like a laugh came from her, and then she began to push his chest. “I think I would like to breathe now, Nicky!" He loosened his grip with a sheepish chuckle. She gazed up at him. Her voice was laced with worry when she spoke again. "You don’t seem like yourself. Are you well?"
No, he was not. He was standing on a precipice and beneath him was a pit of fire. Should he fall, his hopes and dreams would burn away. When she remained expectantly silent, he said, "I hope to be now that I have returned to you."
"Well, let us clean you up then." She took his hand and led him back up the stairs to his bedchamber.
She summoned Ramsay to attend to him and after his bath, Nicholas walked back into the room to a hearty meal and some fruits waiting for him. "I had this quickly prepared. I do not suppose you ate anything substantial since you left."
He had not eaten a bite since he had left but he forced something down, mostly because of the effort Jenny had put into having it prepared. She sat with him as he ate, saying nothing. “Good night, Nicky,” she said after he had finished eating.
He quickly took her arm, stopping her. "Can—can you stay? Please?" He could hear the vulnerability in his voice and hoped she could not read it.
“Let’s sit by the fire, then.” She gathered the pillows on the sofa and threw them down on the hearth rug before sitting down. He joined her and rested his head on her bosom, allowing her to run her slender fingers through his hair, occasionally massaging his scalp. He closed his eyes.
"Jenny, I am sorry." He whispered after a long stint.
"What for?"
"For last night." He was not apologizing for last night though. He was apologizing for what was to come. For the grief she might be exposed to if there was any truth in that marriage document.
“That was beyond our control, Nicholas,” she assured him. “It is our responsibility to take care of our tenants. Life always comes first. We’re fortunate that the fire stopped at their properties and no lives were claimed by it.”
“You are precious. Did you know that?” He would have loved to have looked at her as he told her that but he wished to shield her from his pain.
“So are you, Nicky,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.
They remained like that for a while, his head on her chest as she consoled him and he drew strength from her. Then she suggested they go to sleep. Nicholas held her through the night, silently vowing to make things right.
He had to make things right. Everything he held dear depended on it.
