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She felt a faint tremor of resentment. In truth, she wasn’t pleased with Mr. Bothwell. And if he were the one to break off their engagement she’d consider herself well-rid of him.
No, he wouldn’t break it off, no matter what she did. He was much too conscious of his reputation and his consequence. A gentleman didn’t jilt a lady.
He was her best chance at a life of her own, and it was a poor chance at best. But if he was willing to forgive her she supposed she’d have no choice but to bow her head and be grateful.
She hadn’t slept well the night before, and she drifted in and out of sleep, Mrs. Grudge’s soothing monotone in her ears. The last time she awoke, with a small jerk, she looked out the window and realized they had stopped. They were at the front door of her parents’ London home.
She saw the door open and relief swept through her. Her parents must be in town—she could throw herself in her mother’s arms and not have to think about a thing. Lady Evangelina Pagett would see to everything. They might be angry with her, but were more likely to simply be worried.
The coach rocked as the driver jumped down, and to her dismay he beat her footman to the door, opening it and letting down the steps.
“Miss Pagett. ” His voice was the voice of that midnight dark room, smoky and sensual. No Yorkshire accent anymore, and she didn’t know if that was by accident or design.
She hadn’t bothered to replace her gloves, and in a moment of sheer bravado and anger she put out her left hand, so that he had no choice but to look at it. At Mr. Bothwell’s stingy engagement ring back in place where it belonged, with no sign of the massive diamond.
His hand closed around hers, and she knew a moment’s nervousness, as he reached in and lifted her down onto the cobbled streets. Her boot heel slid on one of the cobbles, and she started to lose her balance, and he caught her, easily, his hand beneath her elbow.
And that brief spurt of bravery blossomed. What would Miranda do? came lilting through her mind again, and she squared her shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. “You’ve been very kind, Jacobs,” she said in a f
ormal voice, “though your driving skills leave a bit to be desired. For your trouble. ” And she handed him the handkerchief, wrapped around the ring.
He grinned at her, tucking it into his pocket without looking. Would he have guessed what it was? It didn’t matter—by the time he looked at it, it would be too late. Clearly the sight of her hand hadn’t distressed him, not the missing diamond or the replaced engagement ring.
But she wasn’t going to pretend to herself that she was wrong. She knew him as surely as if she’d seen him in the light of day that first time.
She started up at the front steps, and her face broke out in a smile that died as quickly as it was born. It wasn’t her parents standing there, ready to welcome her return.
It was her affianced husband, his handsome face dark with disapproval.
She faltered for a moment. Jacobs glanced at the door, then back at her. “Don’t let him see your fear, love,” he whispered, so softly she almost didn’t believe he’d dare. And then he turned away from her, letting her go.
“I don’t suppose anyone is going to bother to assist me out of this contraption?” Mrs. Grudge demanded in a loud voice. “I really don’t want to sit here all day. ”
“Beggin’ your pardon, missus,” Jacobs said, his voice suddenly three rungs down on the social ladder. “I was seeing to the lady. ”
But Jane was no longer looking back, and she was barely conscious of the words. She climbed up the steps like Marie Antoinette climbing onto the scaffold, her back straight, a tentative smile on her face.
“Why, Mr. Bothwell, how kind of you to welcome me home,” she said, her voice strained.
“Inside, Miss Pagett,” he ordered in a thunderous voice. “Now. ”
The servants were watching them curiously, and she had little doubt that Jacobs would be amused by it all. The sad little scarecrow of a girl and her bullying fiancé. She couldn’t hope for much, but she prayed he hadn’t entertained his friends with the story of the midnight kiss and the way she’d trembled in his arms.
She followed Mr. Bothwell into the house, fully aware that he was deliberately not showing her the courtesy of letting her precede him. He must be very angry indeed to exhibit that much rage in front of the servants.
Author: Anne Stuart
“The front parlor. ” Mr. Bothwell had very large, very white teeth, and they were clenched together. They made her nervous. This time he let her precede him, and she’d barely made it into the middle of the room before he began his tirade.
She sat.
“Shouldn’t you be going in there, Molly?” Jacob said as she climbed down from the coach. “You’re her guarantee of respectability, after all, and her fiancé looked ready to bite her head off. ”
“Afraid I can’t, love. I recognize the gentleman. He’s one of my customers, and he’s got very nasty habits, that one has. I’ve had to give him warning a time or two, and he’ll remember me for it. I hope the lass isn’t going to marry him—he’s a mean one. Anyway, you’ve done your job, Jacob me darling. What’re you waiting for?”
“She recognized me. ”
“Don’t be ridiculous. And even if she suspected for a moment I spun her such tales that she has to be convinced she was wrong. ”
