Chills (17 page)

“I hope my brother is treating you better,” she continued.

“Yes, of course he is. He has been very generous. I could not, in good conscience, ask for more.” Constance turned away. Jack’s friendly behavior was terrifying because she knew it wouldn’t last.

“Do you know that any other woman would do just that? He would never refuse you. You should be pleased.”

“Virginia, I do not wish to quarrel, but your brother has been far too generous as it is. I should not impose on the marquess and you know it.”

“Pixie, I believe my brother is your friend as much as I. He would not put himself out as much as he has if you were an imposition.”

“I don’t belong here, Virginia. Heavens, I almost skewered Miss Scaling in the middle of a ballroom. I have become a menace to society.”

 
“Nonsense, you did Jack a great service. That chit had her hands all over him, didn’t you see?” Virginia asked. “Just be who you are, Pixie. That is all we want.”

Constance looked off toward the house and spotted Jack at his study window. Some of her surprise must have registered with Virginia, for she looked to the house, gestured for her brother to join them, and dragged Constance over to meet him.

It was strange, but whenever she lifted her head lately, Jack watched her. He was probably checking to make sure she wasn’t getting into more trouble.

As he approached, Virginia dropped her arm. “Just in time, my dear. Do excuse me. I must return to the house for a moment.”

“That was subtle,” Jack mused aloud. But he collected Constance’s arm and strolled away from the house.

Her heart fluttered when Jack’s hand settled over hers. They ambled along the paths, heading toward a shaded garden seat. When Jack gestured for her to sit and then joined her, she couldn’t be more surprised. Although they sat in companionable silence, Constance was glad for the time to get her mind to function properly again. Strolling about on Jack’s arm, when there was no need, confused her almost as much as the scent of him did.

“What do you think of the place?” Jack asked, keeping hold of her unresisting hand. It was so delicate compared to his.

“I think it’s lovely,” Constance stuttered.

~ * ~

Jack studied her with a mixture of fascination and dread. Everything she did and said, had to be examined. He already knew a great deal about her, but he had never considered that one day he might want to wake up beside her and fall asleep there too. It would take him a little time to reorganize his thoughts, until the idea was as comfortable as breathing.

He drew in a sharp breath, scenting her perfume on the air. “What does the garden need, Pixie? You have an excellent eye for this kind of thing.”

She bit her lip as she looked at the grounds. “More color and a few more garden beds.”

“Where?” he pressed, bumping her shoulder with his.

Before he could give serious consideration to the matter of wooing Pixie, he had to convince her that she was wrong about him. They needed to make it through a day without arguing. It would not be easy, but he had the advantage of knowing her tastes very well. She had a fine eye for gardens, and when she hesitantly pointed out her locations, he committed them to memory. Work would start first thing tomorrow.

“Will there be any statues needed in your improvements?” he asked, determined to draw all her visions out today.

“Perhaps, but I should not advise you on which one.”

Jack studied her lowered lashes, the dark smudge thick against her cheek. At first glance, he had not noticed how straight they were, but they were in complete opposition to the curly hair on her head. He could not wait to see the wild mass loose again.

He shrugged off the unruly thought and squeezed her hand. “Just one? I thought a pair might be nice. But not a saintly couple, if you please. I have to live here too.”

Constance bit her lower lip again and Jack really wished she would let it go. The plump flesh, dimpled by her teeth, pouted as red as wild strawberries.

“Would you care for Aphrodite and Hercules?”

“My own personal Aphrodite? Certainly.” Jack glanced at the rapid rise and fall of her breasts and ignored the sensation of heat rising, along with other parts. “You may choose the hero you like best.”

“Jack, I really shouldn’t.”

A foolish smile slipped free as his name crossed those strawberry red lips. Now that he was not simply the marquess to her, matters could progress. He couldn’t bear to have her ‘my lord-ing’ him forever.

“And the house? How do you like the house?” he pressed.

He would like Pixie as a lover, too. He’d always preferred dark-haired beauties.

Her lips pursed in thought and he glanced away, lest he find out if they tasted as good as they looked.

 
“My bedchamber is lovely, thank you. So is the rest of the house.” Her mention of bedchambers reminded him he had to remain on his side of the balcony, and not stray too often to her side. He might mention locking the doors, just to be safe. “Is there anything you would have different?” he asked, sure that she would mention the hunting trophies in the dining room, but she did not. Her gaze fixed on where his hand still held hers, his thumb rubbing over her knuckle.

“My door to the balcony is a little creaky,” she admitted.

Jack squeezed her hand and sat back. Here was his opportunity to mention locking the doors, but before he could get the words out, he spotted a meeting across the garden and held his tongue.

~ * ~

Virginia glanced up at the sound of footsteps on gravel and let out a strangled “Oh.” Bernard looked so very … neat.

He stopped a few feet away and held out both of his hands in supplication. “Does my lady approve?”

Squinting in the sunlight, Virginia pursed her lips and considered him warily before she approached. Bernard looked very different from this morning. Very fine, indeed. Gone was the scruffy and outdated coat. He dressed as well as any Corinthian.

She walked around him in a small circuit, pausing directly behind his back to admire his broad shoulders. His head snapped around to follow her movements. The cut of his starched collar bit deep into his neck, but he held his head there until she moved again to stand before him.

“Well?” Bernard demanded.

“How difficult were you for the tailor?” she asked, unable to flirt and confess how grand he looked. She was more comfortable with their acidic banter.

“He was amply compensated.”

“Oh, the poor man.” She laughed, yet anxiety tightened his jaw. “You’ll do.”

Those few words relaxed him so suddenly that he seemed to bend in toward her. Virginia stepped back, bumped the bench, and sat hastily, struggling for breath. He paused a moment then sat down beside her. Close. She stiffened in panic.

When he came no closer, she forced her body to relax. To blow out the breath she held. He was not even touching her.

“What did you do this morning?”

“Oh, I called on Aunt Augusta. I had an invitation to take tea,” she blurted out, confused and unsure of what he expected now that he was holding up his end of the bargain.

“Just you?”

“Just me.” Virginia swallowed over the memory of her uncomfortable audience with Aunt Augusta. The Dragon Aunt was not happy.

“What did she bleat about today? Getting Jack married or getting you your own house?” Bernard asked.

When he leaned against her shoulder, her heart thumped a little faster. “Both, actually,” she admitted. “My aunt does not believe Pixie is a fit guest to accept into Ettington House. She’s refused an introduction and asked me to send her packing. I haven’t the heart to mention this to Pixie since she is so sure she doesn’t belong already.”

“I would not do that if I were you. Jack may not like bending to the dragon’s wishes on this issue. He is very fond of Pixie.”

“Well, of course he is. We have known her forever. He would never be cruel.”

“That is not quite what I meant, love.” Bernard shifted his leg so their knees touched. “My dear, he is very, very fond of Pixie. You would break his heart if you sent her away.”

Virginia touched his knee, but her breath churned painfully in panic. “Jack cares for her?”

“More than words can describe. Only the blind cannot see it,” Bernard assured her, but she had to shake her head a few times before she believed her ears.

“But he has never said a word, never hinted that he has deeper feelings for her. How extraordinary.”

“Ah, I see you have been blind too. He has never hinted because he has only just come to consider the matter. You should know a man rarely thinks far enough ahead to envisage his future wife. Cheer up. At least you like Pixie. She will make an excellent sister-in-law.”

Virginia tried to wrap her mind around the image of Jack and Pixie together. They fit. She could easily picture them together, married with children about them, grown old and at peace. They would create a happy home. Virginia would never be uneasy with Pixie as Jack’s wife. But what about his betrothal?

She drew in a shaky breath and dared to hope Jack could marry for love. His life would be filled with laughter, and she’d not worry for him as she often did.

Her only concern now was how Jack would get out of his betrothal. His intended’s family was sure to demand significant compensation for breach of promise.

“I can hear that clever mind of yours working from over here,” Bernard whispered, amusement softening his tone. “What are you thinking of with such serious attention?”

“I am relieved that Jack has chosen such a worthy woman.”

“Only if she admits she loves him in return,” he murmured, still regarding her with his dark-eyed stare.

Virginia squirmed and looked down, unable to hold his gaze a moment longer. She had never known how to react when Bernard stared at her like that. “Do you believe her indifferent?”

“I believe Pixie confused. But she is Jack’s concern, not mine. I have my own personal matter to deal with, and she is all I can handle for the moment. She takes up all my thoughts and energies.”

Virginia could not help it—she blushed and stammered out something incoherent, then froze when Bernard’s fingers grazed her back.

“Do not fret, Virginia. It is not widely accepted that I am a patient man, but for you, my patience is endless.” He removed his hand and sat forward, resting his arms on his knees.

Virginia fought to steady her breath. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until we have shared a bed before you decide if thanks are in order.”

Virginia spluttered and turned on him. “If this is how you speak around women, then it is no wonder you have not married. What a fine display of tact.”

“That’s my girl—all fire and brimstone. I merely wanted to forewarn you that I have not taken a woman to bed in some time. It is possible that I've forgotten how it is done,” he replied.

Virginia could not help it. She laughed. “Oh, I don’t believe that for a moment.”

He turned earnest dark eyes on her and Virginia’s merriment died. “Four years, one month, and a few days.”

Virginia gulped out another “Oh,” and looked down, attempting to count back that length of time.

“The night we last danced,” he supplied with a shrug.

“We argued, if I remember correctly, at my betrothal ball.”

“That we did,” he said sadly. “You were right, though. I was being an insensitive ass. I hope the vase you threw at me was not a sentimental favorite.”

“No, not at all.” After half a minute of silence she added, “I hope none of the shards hit the woman you were making love to?”

Bernard chuckled. “No, the lady was unhurt. Your aim was fairly accurate, given your degree of anger.”

“I should apologize, I suppose.”

“Not necessary. Your spectacular display of temper gave me something to think about other than my musty books.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JACK SANK INTO his seat with a groan. As much as he usually enjoyed the theatre, tonight he was restless. Perhaps the rainy weather outside had dampened his enthusiasm. Perhaps it was being stared at by most of the ton while they pondered his every action. Couldn’t they find something else to do?

But truthfully, his unease stemmed from the dark-haired Pixie sitting beside him, who had waved so happily to the box opposite. Had she waved to Viscount Carrington or Miss Ryall, his sister? Both had waved back.

Her excited smile forced Jack to bite back an oath. He liked Carrington. Truly he did. Only when he smiled at Pixie, danced with her, or talked to her, would Jack gladly strangle him. Carrington wasn’t on the list of suitors, but he appeared to be becoming her friend. Jack hated that. He scanned the room as he attempted to suppress the urge to slay his competition for Pixie’s affections and watched the musicians settling in to play.

Across the theatre, he spotted Lord Blamey. There was very little to recommend Blamey. Plain, brown hair, round, unremarkable face, and clothing without a hint of ostentation. He was certainly not a compelling candidate for Pixie to tie herself to.