Eloise stared at it. Her lower lip trembled, but other than that she gave no sign that his confession had moved her. “What of Portia Sinclair?” she asked simply.
He frowned, releasing her to lay the ring in her lap. “She is perfectly welcome to do as she pleases. I have no use for her.”
She flinched and dropped her gaze. One hand stroked the ring as if she longed to put it on her finger. He knew he would have felt better had she done so.
“Yes, Miss Sinclair seems aware of your feelings,” she said in that quiet voice. “Did you know she was with child?”
Jareth started. “No. But that actually explains a great deal.”
“Does it?” She gave a bitter laugh. “Then perhaps you would be so good as to explain it to me, for I find myself quite at a loss.”
He could see the knowledge of Portia’s state had upset her and could easily guess why. She was afraid he was the father. As he had feared, he could still lose her. But protesting his innocence would likely make him only look more the villain. He would have to trust her to think through the facts in the situation. “I would be delighted to explain the matter. You are certain Miss Sinclair is with child?”
She nodded, face drawn. “Oh, yes. I have seen the evidence, so to speak.”
“And how long have I been in London?”
She frowned. “Perhaps a month.”
“You know that for a fact?”
She cocked her head as if in thought. “No, but I suspect I could confirm it with Lady Wenworth.”
“You could indeed. Let us say six weeks just to be conservative. How long does it take after conception for the woman’s body to begin to change?”
She lifted her nose. “I certainly have no idea.”
“I do. There were times in my life when it was critical to know such things.”
She eyed him. “I would imagine.”
He could not help giving her a grin. “Then we are agreed that I am an expert on the matter?”
Her mouth quirked, but she did not break into a smile. “We are agreed that I could
find
an expert to confirm your statements.”
“Good enough,” Jareth replied. “The time until the pregnancy is obvious is between three and five months, depending on the size of the lady and the babe, and whether this is her first or later child. How is it possible, even if I were to have pounced upon Miss Sinclair the moment I left the Channel packet, that she should be obvious in her state in a mere six weeks?”
She stared at him a moment, then, to his surprise, she threw her arms about him.
“Oh, Jareth, I knew you were innocent! My heart wanted to shout it to the stars but my damnable brain kept arguing.”
“Perfectly understandable, my love,” he said, enjoying the feel of her willing against him and marveling at it. “I have been a bit of a cad in the past.”
“Not such a scoundrel as this,” she replied, pulling back even as her face fell. “Someone has gotten her with child. Perhaps she does not understand the dates either, but the fact remains that she is to give birth.”
“Oh, I have little doubt she understands the calendar as well as I do,” Jareth replied with a rueful shake of his head. “I also have little doubt that I was carefully chosen to star in her little drama.”
Eloise frowned. “What do you mean?”
“My bothersome reputation precedes me,” Jareth explained. “Who but you will doubt Portia’s tale that I fathered her babe?”
“But the dates, her state?” she protested.
“Verifiable by you, but unknown to most. Did she flaunt her belly?”
“By no means. I realized the truth only by accident.”
He spread his hands. “And there you have it. As neat a trap as you could want. After seeing her hanging on me at Almack’s and finding us alone together at the literary reception, who will doubt that I wasn’t dallying with her? Even my silence is against me. Her stepmother demands that I offer.”
Eloise sobered. “Indeed, Miss Sinclair came to see me today to beg me to ensure that you did so.”
He could see the hurt in her eyes and silently berated Portia and her stepmother for their part in putting it there. He took her gently by the shoulders. “I am so sorry she made you part of this, my love. I should have dealt with her directly.”
Eloise did not pull away. “Yes, you should. She will be here at three tomorrow. You must confront her then.”
He released her with a resigned nod. “If it pleases you.”
“My pleasure is not the issue. She is intent on having you.”
“She cannot have me.” He brought her hand to his lips. “My heart is yours.”
She shivered at his kiss, but he did not think it was desire for him that shook her. “But her need is greater,” she insisted. “Much as I despise her tactics, I understand her despair. Someone has used and abandoned her. I have lived that pain. I cannot watch another go through it.”
Jareth cradled her hand in his. “What do you ask of me?”
“To put someone’s needs before your own.”
Her gaze was intent, but Jareth felt cold. “Is that your final test? You would have me marry Portia Sinclair?”
She squeezed his hand. “What, Mr. Darby, after you had spoken to my father?” She blinked and grinned. “My goodness, I seem to have borrowed your gift of making light of things.”
“At least one of us can do so,” he replied, but he felt a smile forming at her pleasure. “I take it you have some other reparation in mind then.”
Her smile faded. “No, but something must be done, Jareth. The man responsible must be brought to task.”
“I find it difficult to care. In my book, Miss Sinclair seeks only to further her own interests and damn the consequences to anyone else.”
She raised a black brow. “And does that not sound like someone you once knew?”
He stared at her.
She touched his cheek. “You know the truth, Jareth. And I know you have the strength to do the right thing. I would not love you so much if it were not true.”
Her words halted all other thoughts. “You love me? Do I understand you correctly?”
She nodded with a smile, looking suddenly shy. She picked up the ring as if to prove it and slipped it on her finger. “I do. I don’t think I ever stopped, through all of it.” She seemed about to go on, but he stopped her with a kiss. In it, he felt all his hopes and dreams answered. The fire and the passion, he remembered from their past were all there, but built now on a foundation of love. When she at last pulled away, they were both breathless.
She laid her hand against his cheek, her touch as warm as their embrace. “We have found our love, Jareth. But you cannot ask me to sit by and watch Portia Sinclair go through such pain. Will you at least come by tomorrow and meet with her? She deserves that much.”
He inclined his head. “I will speak with her. But I want no misconceptions that I will give in to this blackmail she appears to be planning. As long as you believe me, I care nothing for what others think. Let Miss Sinclair do her worst.”
“She may at that. She is desperate, Jareth. I know the feeling.”
“Watch that your feelings do not blind you to her schemes. I will not be trapped.”
She stared at him arrested. He could almost see the thoughts spinning behind her eyes. He had hoped she’d use her intellect, and she certainly seemed to be justifying that hope. A smile spread on her lovely face. “My dear Mr. Darby, you are so clever. I do not know why I did not appreciate it sooner.”
He cocked his head. “What do you mean? Did I say something to give you an idea of how to handle Miss Sinclair?”
“You did indeed. You are quite right that you should not be trapped. But I begin to believe I know who should. Be here tomorrow, and we will endeavor to catch the culprit in her own net.”
Chapter Twenty-one
By the following afternoon, Eloise could only hope she had done the right thing. As soon as she had gotten Jareth out of the house, she had hurried to Cleo’s to enlist her friend’s help. It had taken some doing to convince Cleo of Jareth’s innocence, but the fact that Eloise wore his ring proudly on her finger went a long way toward making Cleo see that perhaps he might be redeemable.
Once Cleo was convinced, they set about inveigling Leslie’s support. His father had been the head of an elite group of spies, and every one of them was inclined to do his son a favor. A few words in the right ears netted a great deal of information. A fast horse out the Dover Road made Eloise hope that more information might arrive before their meeting.
She hesitated to tell her father of her activities, but she realized that if she were to keep developing the relationship they had rekindled that morning, she had to ignore her fears of his censure. She forced herself to knock at his study door.
“I wanted you to know what happened this afternoon with Lord Nathaniel and Jareth Darby,” she explained when he had greeted her inside.
“I take it by your hesitation that you refused them both,” her father guessed.
“I refused Lord Nathaniel.” She held out her hand to show him the ring Jareth had given her. “This is Mr. Darby’s ring. Before we can marry, however, we must solve a problem.” She went on to explain the situation with Portia Sinclair and her plans to resolve it.
He listened solemnly, asked a few questions, then nodded. “A very wise plan of action. I am proud of you, Eloise. But then, I am always proud of you.” He offered her a hug, which she gladly accepted.
“By the by,” he added as they separated, “I understand you and Bryerton are having a tiff.”
She grimaced. “I had been so busy I had forgotten to speak with him. I fear I insulted him, but I cannot abide how he insists upon escorting me about my own home.”
Her father nodded thoughtfully. “I will speak to him. I did not realize how easily I slip into formality. You need not feel you must have his permission to see me.”
“Thank you, Father,” she replied with a smile of relief. “I hope you can convince him to continue in his other duties. He is rather good at keeping unwanted guests away.”
“I am certain he will agree. He is too much the professional to do otherwise.”
Although Bryerton was the least of her problems, she had gone to bed that night feeling far lighter than she had in years. She had kissed the ring on her finger for luck before falling asleep.
Now, as the meeting time approached, Eloise found her hands sweating and her mouth dry. She must have rearranged the skirts of her lilac lustring dress three times before the clock struck the hour.
Cleo arrived first, as planned. She burst into the withdrawing room in a flurry of saffron skirts.
“No news from Dover,” she confirmed after allowing Bryerton to do his duty and announce her. “But Les has instructions to send on anyone who arrives before I return home.”
Jareth was the next to arrive, handsome as always in his navy coat. He looked a little surprised to see Cleo, but he offered her a bow before going to kiss Eloise’s palm. Cleo bristled, but Jareth winked at Eloise as if to let her know he did not care who knew where his feelings lay.
She wondered whether she could keep the two of them away from each other’s throat while they waited for Portia. Before she knew it, however, Jareth was telling a story that set her to giggling. He soon had Cleo in stitches. When Portia Sinclair arrived, they were a merry bunch indeed. She looked startled by the three of them being so happy at such a time, but her stepmother behind her looked positively ominous.
She stopped her stepdaughter from moving forward as Bryerton attempted to usher them into the room.
“Mrs. and Miss Sinclair,” he announced, then hurriedly bowed himself out.
“I do not understand,” Mrs. Sinclair said, raising her head above the white ruffled collar of her navy gown. “I thought this conversation was about Mr. Darby and my stepdaughter. Why do you have other company, Miss Watkin?”
Cleo rose, as did Jareth. Smiling pleasantly, she went to take Portia’s hands to pull her into the room, all the while chatting with her stepmother. “Please let me stay, Mrs. Sinclair. I am here to see that justice is done.”
Mrs. Sinclair frowned as if not trusting the situation.
“Justice?” Portia asked, sinking in a puddle of pink muslin onto the chair to which Cleo led her.
“Yes, justice,” Eloise confirmed. She gestured to Mrs. Sinclair to take a seat near Portia. “I took the liberty of letting Lady Wenworth know of Miss Sinclair’s predicament, and she is as adamant as I am that you receive the right help.”
“Why ... how kind,” Portia said, gaze darting between the two of them.
“How kind indeed,” Mrs. Sinclair muttered, though she looked no less skeptical.
“That’s us,” Cleo warbled. “Kind to a fault. And speaking of faults, Miss Sinclair, I understand you believe we should lay the fault squarely at Mr. Darby’s door.”
“I’m sure I never said,” Portia started, but her stepmother interrupted.
“Mr. Darby has refused to bear responsibility for his dalliance with my stepdaughter,” she said, short nose high. “I had to restrain Mr. Sinclair from calling him out.”
“I am certain no one wants bloodshed,” Eloise told her, though she rather thought Jareth could hold his own if needed.
“Only my blood,” Jareth put in, “as the sacrificial lamb.”
Mrs. Sinclair sputtered, but he continued before Eloise could caution him. “You know as well as I do that I have no responsibility to bear, Mrs. Sinclair. Your stepdaughter and I have only a passing acquaintance.” His gaze to the girl was steely, and Eloise could see her swallow.
“Come now, Mr. Darby,” Eloise chided, forcing herself to focus on their goals. “I am certain you know her better than that. And as a friend, you will surely wish to see justice done as much as Lady Hastings and I do.”
He frowned at her while Mrs. Sinclair measured him with narrowed eyes. “Justice, certainly,” he allowed. “Although I would wager we have a different opinion on what constitutes justice.”
“Perhaps not so different as you might think,” Eloise murmured.
“In any event,” Cleo put in before Mrs. Sinclair could start further protests, “I believe we are agreed as to our purpose.”
“Assuredly,” Eloise said. “We are intent on making the father of the child responsible.”