One Scandalous Kiss (23 page)

Lucius closed the window behind her and then settled a blanket over her lap before taking the chair next to hers.

“First, know that I intend to speak to Julia—”

Jess rushed to stop him. “I want to forget all of it.”

“I can’t forget.”

The memory of the first time he’d spoken the three words were in his mind. She could see it when she gazed at him and saw the tremulous curve of his mouth. Jess reached for him and he lifted his hand to meet hers.

“What of my question? Can you tell me why?”

He stroked a thumb across the back of her hand as he spoke. “I suspect my aunt has warned you away from the eastern wing of the house.”

Lady Stamford had mentioned it once, indicating that portion of the estate was undergoing renovations.

“My parents used to share those rooms, and now my father refuses to be moved. He was quite . . . obsessed with my mother. Perhaps he remembers her best in those rooms.” He closed his eyes a moment before continuing. “He’s not well, you see. His emotions run riot and his memory often fails him completely.”

It explained why his father avoided public gatherings, why he preferred to keep to his rooms and required a nurse to accompany him to dinner. Suddenly, the aristocratic older man who’d struck her as intimidating seemed human, vulnerable. He needed Lucius, not simply as his heir, but as his steward, a man with the will and strength of character to take on the challenges of running the estate. And, apparently, repairing it.

“The renovations are extensive?”

Lifting his free hand, Lucius pinched the flesh at the top of nose, and Jess longed to reach a finger up and smooth the lines of worry creasing his brow.

“The renovations haven’t truly begun. The cost is . . . extensive.”

“And May is rich.”

He nodded and reached for her other hand.

“Very. And yet I have no more interest in marrying her than she does in marrying me.”

His words warmed her more effectively than the fire, but Jess knew May’s wishes and Lucius’s weren’t the end of the matter.

“But it’s what your father asked of you.” Jess tightened her grip on his hands as she echoed the answer she’d given Mr. Wellesley. She understood duty to one’s father. It had driven the last twelve years of her life.

“My father does not ask. He expects. He insists.”

Jess knew the sadness in Lucius’s gaze, knew the weight of a father’s expectations. She pulled her hands from his, but he held tight, only letting her go reluctantly.

Standing before the fire a moment, heart sore and mind muddled, she willed herself to turn to him. There was a truth they were both avoiding, and it was what mattered most.

Taking the few steps toward his desk, Jess took care not disturb to any of the implements on top, recalling Lady Stamford’s story about how very particular he was about arranging them.

“Even if you don’t marry May, you’ll have to marry someone like her. A lady with the dowry you need.”

She’d managed to say the words, but he didn’t give her time to dwell on them before approaching in three determined strides. Standing behind her, he rested his hands on her waist and pulled her in close, fitting her body against his.

“There’s something I need more than a rich girl’s dowry.”

His fingers brushed the nape of her neck, sliding stray tendrils of hair aside. Then he kissed her, a warm, firm press of his mouth that reverberated through her body, fizzing down her spine, and lower, until she felt it to the tips of her toes.

“I need you.”

Moving to her side, Lucius reached out to tilt her chin gently, just enough to meet his gaze.

“What sort of man did your father intend for you to marry?”

“He never expected me to marry at all. I told him I would keep the shop instead.” Now that she did consider it, now that she sometimes allowed herself to dream of the joy marriage could bring, it hurt to recall how easily her father had allowed her to renounce the notion. Shouldn’t he have wished for that kind of happiness for her?

Lucius looked contemplative before reaching up and stroking one finger down her check, skimming it along the edge of her chin.

“It seems we’ve found in each other what neither of us expected but always hoped for.”

Pleasure expanded in her chest, warm and sweet, filling every hollow space, every painful corner. Jess embraced it. No thoughts. No doubts. Just the love she’d kept locked away, waiting for Lucius to set it free.

She reached for him, but he’d already gathered her near, kissing the tip of her nose, each cheek, even the curve of her chin before taking her lips. He tortured her with slow, drugging kisses when she wanted to pull and press, to get as close to his body as she felt to his heart.

When Lucius lowered his head to kiss her neck, Jess made the mistake of opening her eyes, of taking in the polished wainscoting, the elaborately carved fireplace, and the glinting silver-framed photographs on the mantel.

Doubt seeped in, fears and uncertainties. Lucius lifted his head as if he could sense the tumult in her mind.

He reached up, cupping her cheek in his palm. “What is it?”

Jess took a breath to express her worries and ruin their blissful moment, but the clicking patter of canine paws on the main hall’s marble floor drew their attention to the study door.

Lady Stamford swept in and Castor and Pollux ambled along behind her.

“Oh . . .” The countess looked momentarily abashed, and then lifted her chin. “Lucius, Miss Wright has had a most trying evening. I assumed you’d had a maid help her to her room.”

She lifted her arm toward Jessamin. “Come, my dear, let’s get you to bed. We should all get a sound sleep so that we may face the challenges ahead.”

Jess shifted her gaze from Lucius to his aunt and then back to the man she loved. She nodded to let him know she’d go with his aunt, but when she took a step to move from his side, he slid his hand down to grasp her wrist.

“Rest well, Jessamin. I spoke to my father last night, but I intend to speak to him again in the morning, and then I’ll have a rather important question for you.” He smiled, a quick, easy dip of his mouth and flash of teeth, as if he did it all the time.

Jess’s heart flipped and swelled in her chest.

As she preceded Lady Stamford from the study, the pugs trotting ahead of her as if to lead the way, Jess heard Lucius’s aunt whisper to him.

“Speak with me in the morning before you approach Maxim again. We must formulate a strategy.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

J
ESS WAS WELL
practiced at sleepless nights. She’d found no rest for days upon first arriving at Marleston, and back in London, living in the cramped rooms over the shop, she’d lain awake many a night worrying over her father and money— always money. If not the root of
all
evil, it had certainly shaped her life. Her parents had constantly fretted over sales and debts, even before Father’s vices had begun whittling their funds.

And now she found herself in love with a man who said he needed her when she did not have the one thing he needed most—the wealth to help him repair his estate. If she’d learned anything from her parents’ marriage, it was the nature of partnership. They’d been true helpmates, allied in every trial, assisting each other with every task. It was no wonder her father had been so lost after losing his life’s partner.

Could she be that to Lucius? To be his wife—
could there be a sweeter notion?

But could she take what she wanted—his love, his name, his heart in exchange for hers—and fail to give him the dowry he’d sought in a bride? Could she consign him to a life of worrying over money and watching his grand estate crumble around him? The love she’d seen in his eyes tonight had warmed her from the inside out, but what if some future day came when he turned on her with resentment in his eyes? The thought made her clench the blanket and bite her lip until she tasted blood.

Turning onto her belly, Jess buried her face in the plush pillow and concentrated on any other thoughts than worry over money. She silently recited poems she’d memorized as a child. Recalling favorite novels, she repeated whole paragraphs in her mind until coming to the edge of what she remembered. Finally, she turned to Shakespeare, grasping for a dark play, as somber as her mood, and began reciting lines from
Macbeth.
These she couldn’t resist speaking aloud and turned her head so that her voice was only half muffled by the pillow’s bulk.

“ ‘The night is long that never finds the day.’ ” That seemed particularly fitting. She repeated it until drowsiness drew her down into near sleep. When she heard the pitter-patter of raindrops beating at the windowpanes, a comforting sound that reminded her of the bookshop and London, she finally gave in and slept.

But a moment later, or so it seemed, she squinted one eye open.

“Drat!” A housemaid stood by a chair, bending down to rub her shin.

Jess usually woke to the sight of Tilly, who’d tended to her since their arrival at Hartwell, and she didn’t recognize the young woman grimacing in pain.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh yes, miss. Ever so sorry. I’m not familiar with this room to cross it in the dark. Shall I turn the up the gas and open the curtains?”

The room was unusually dim for morning, and when the maid drew the drapery back, Jess saw why. Storm clouds hovered, darkening the sky.

The ominous weather matched her mood, and the murky state of her mind.

“Is Tilly unwell?”

“No, miss. She’s helping in another part of the house. The storm last night caused some damage, or so I heard.”

The maid turned her attention back to sorting out Jess’s clothing, but news that the estate had suffered damage during the night had Jess out of bed and rushing through her morning tasks and pinning her hair. The maid huffed with frustration, so Jess accepted her help to dress, but then sent the girl on her way.

She needed to see Lucius, to know that he was safe and well, but when she reached the ground floor, Jess found herself in the midst of chaos. Maids and footman scurried past in both directions, some carrying furnishings, others weighed down with piles of folded linen.

When Tilly emerged from the far end of the hall, Jess rushed toward her, only to find the girl wide-eyed and frazzled, arms full of bloody clothing.

“It’s His Lordship, miss. There was an accident in that part of the house.”

Tilly cocked her head back to indicate the eastern portion of the house, and Jess moved past her to follow a maid carrying more clean linens.

Dirty, wet footprints provided a trail up a winding staircase that opened to a hallway. Most of the doors along the wall were closed, but outside one open door, two maids knelt on their hands and knees sopping up water.

Jess stepped between the young women and heard the rough voice of Lucius’s father.

“Then leave me here, damn you. Let me die here. I won’t leave this room.”

Mrs. Ives stood near the threshold, blocking the way, but Jess could see over the woman’s shoulder to the scene inside. Lucius’s father lay in the middle of an elaborately carved four-poster bed, and Lucius stood at his bedside. A blood-soaked bandage covered part of the earl’s head and dark stains marred his pillow and bedclothes. Chunks of plaster littered the floor and a gaping hole in the ceiling revealed the rafters above. Water ran down the walls, and nearly everything in the room looked wet or dusted with plaster.

Mrs. Ives stepped aside to allow a footman to carry a chair past her and out of the room. Turning, she caught sight of Jess.

“Careful, miss. The floor is still quite slippery.”

“Jessamin.”

The warmth in Lucius’s voice as he moved around his father’s bed and approached made her heart ache. But the sight of him, whole and safe, was such a relief Jess almost reached out to embrace him.

“I’m glad to see you.” Despite his earnest tone and the way he gazed at her as if she was the most appealing woman he’d ever seen, Jess didn’t believe him. She’d seen the dark half-moons under her eyes in her looking glass and noted the sallow tint of her skin.

Lucius looked exhausted too, and bloodstains marred his white shirt.

“Dr. Seagraves says Father will be fine. It’s a slight cut, but head wounds bleed quite a lot. Seagraves doesn’t think it will even leave a scar.” He leaned in and spoke low. “My main objective is to get him out of this room.”

“Your objective should be to marry that American and repair this bloody house.” His father’s call from the bed made Lucius wince, but then he looked at her and took a deep breath, as if preparing to reenter the fray.

“Can I help?” She itched to do something to aid him, to care for him, the man who seemed to be responsible for everyone else. She’d help his father too, if she could, and if the earl would let her.

He reached out to rest his hand on her upper arm. She could feel the chill in his fingers through the fabric of her dress.

“Would you wait for me downstairs in my study? Or the library, if you like.”

Jess peeked around at his father. Mrs. Ives was urging the earl to get up from his sodden bed.

“Can I do nothing here to help you?”

Lucius shocked her by stepping closer and kissing her forehead—one quick press of his mouth before pulling away.

“You help me more than you know.” He looked back at his father too. Mrs. Ives and two maids were easing Lord Dunthorpe into a simple wooden chair.

Lucius rubbed her arm gently and she hoped some of her body’s heat seeped through to warm his fingers.

“We must move him, and I suspect the less of an audience he has, the smaller the fuss he’ll make. At least I pray that’s the case.”

Judging by the scowl on his father’s face, Jess wasn’t certain anything would prevent a fuss, but she turned to leave, glancing back at Lucius when she reached the threshold.

“I’ll come to you as soon as I can.”

The promise in his gaze and tone reassured her. She would do as he bid her and wait for him in his study, but she knew Lady Stamford would be in a dither over her brother’s injury and sought her out first.

She found the countess in a spacious upstairs guest room.

“Jessamin, there you are, my dear. Would you come help me organize this room?”

The room was meant to house Lord Dunthorpe until his portion of the house could be repaired, and Jess directed the placement of furniture and arrangement of the earl’s possessions. It seemed the only personal item he’d have to do without was his enormous bed.

Seeing that Jess had the room preparations well in hand, Lady Stamford headed downstairs to reassure the other guests at breakfast and see May Sedgwick off to the train station.

An hour later, the room looked ready. The earl’s belongings and furniture lent it a comfortable, lived-in air, and Jess thought Lord Dunthorpe might end up enjoying the move after all. After sending one of the maids up to tell Lucius and Mrs. Ives the room awaited its occupant, Jess made her way to Lucius’s study.

It seemed cavernous and hollow without Lucius’s presence, but hints of his spice scent lingered in the air, and that soothed her. She considered reading while she waited for him and entered the library through the connecting door. Selecting
The Count of Monte Cristo
, Jess curled up on a settee near the windows and watched as dark clouds swept across the sky. They churned and twisted, much like the thoughts in her head, but there was a glimmer of clear sky on the far horizon. And there was a single beacon in her mind’s chaos too.

I love him.
Nothing else was as clear as that single thought, that unwavering feeling, that absolute certainty.
I love Lucius.

J
ESS WOKE
TO
the sound of Lucius’s deep voice carried through from the study. “We should speak elsewhere. Jessamin’s asleep in the library.”

“She should hear this, Lucius.” At Lady Stamford’s reply, Jess sat up and almost knocked Lucius’s favorite book onto the floor. She reached out to grab it as he spoke again.

“Yes, but I hate to disturb her. She looked peaceful.”

Jess walked over to replace Lucius’s book, careful to tuck it in as neatly as she’d found it. When she turned back to the connecting door, Lucius’s voice rang through it.

“I can’t marry her. I won’t.”

At his emphatic declaration, Jess’s heart stalled. She gripped the edge of the bookcase, unable to catch her breath.

“You heard her. The woman has no interest in marrying me. And she’s halfway to London by now.”

Jess inhaled and then gasped air into her lungs. May. He was talking about May.

“He’ll continue to insist.”

“He insisted he wouldn’t leave his rooms and now he has a gash on the head for his stubbornness.”

Lady Stamford’s voice turned quiet, tentative. “We could consider other options.”

“If you mean to show me that list of eligible women again, I’ll be tempted to wreck the other half of the house.”

“I have only one woman in mind. As I’m guessing you do. A dowry is the issue we must conquer.” Lady Stamford’s voice held the same tone Jess had heard every time the countess set out to overcome a dilemma.

“Damn a dowry! There are other means of raising money.”

Jess heard Lucius’s footsteps approach the door between his study and the library and she sank back against the wall. What a coward she was to eavesdrop rather than join the battle, as Mr. Wellesley would no doubt urge her to do.

“How much does the estate require?” Lady Stamford asked.

There was a pause, a long drawn-out silence, and then Jess heard Lucius retreat across the room. “More than you can imagine.”

A rustle of papers followed.

“Good heavens.”

Jess approached the door and turned the knob, stepping into Lucius’s study.

He leaned against the front edge of his desk, arms crossed, head down, and his shoulders slumped. She hated the defeat etched in every line of his body.

When he heard her footsteps and looked up, a light lit his eyes.

“Jessamin, I’m sorry we woke you.” He approached and reached for her hands, seemingly unconcerned that his aunt witness the action, but Jess still considered Lady Stamford her employer and held back.

“Aunt Augusta, would you mind if I have a word alone with Jessamin?”

Lady Stamford assessed them a moment before acquiescing. She called to the dogs, who’d settled near the fireplace, and then turned to Lucius.

“I’ll grant you a moment, my boy. That is all. Then I have a proposal both of you should hear.”

She laid a sheaf of documents on a side table before departing and Jess stepped away from Lucius to retrieve them.

“You needn’t—”

“May I?”

They spoke over each other, but Lucius nodded as if he’d heard her request.

“It’s not happy reading, I warn you.”

They appeared to be invoices, with descriptions of work and associated costs, from masons, bricklayers, carpenters, and smiths. The figures on the documents added up to an astounding sum, more than her father had ever dreamed of earning in his life. More than most men could fathom.

“They are estimates. But the work is all necessary if we’re to restore the eastern walls and renovate the tenant housing.”

Jess lifted the papers out to him, and Lucius took them, returning the documents to a precisely arranged pile on his desk. She’d been eager to get them out of her hands, and yet he couldn’t ignore them so easily.

“This has been hanging over you. I’m sure it weighs on your mind. It must be difficult to think about anything else.” Jess realized she wasn’t just speaking of Lucius, but of her own preoccupation with bills that couldn’t be paid, money that was nowhere to be found.

He lifted off the desk and stalked toward her, reaching out to grasp one of the ribbons at the neck of gown. Jess’s breathing hitched and she edged toward him. Being near him felt so right, she could almost forget the rest.

“That was true until quite recently.” He wrapped the length of ribbon around his index finger. “Until a night in Mayfair when I met the most extraordinary woman.” He reached a hand up to the curve of her waist, urging her closer. “And she has so completely taken hold of my mind that I have few thoughts about anything else.”

He lowered his mouth to hers and Jess kissed him with all the passion, all the love she felt. She gasped when he palmed her breast with one hand and reached around with his other to cup her backside. Light-headed, breathless, she pulled back to gaze at him, imprinting the image in her mind. His lips trembled, and his eyes shone with the same need that made her body ache. A lock of hair curled down onto his forehead, and she reached up to stroke the silky strand.