Authors: Kathryn Caskie
Callu
m
's breath hitched, and belatedly, Jenny realized the boldness of her desire had surprised him. Somehow, though, deep within, this pleased her immensely and emboldened her further.
Suddenly she felt strong, large hands reach around and lift her body effortlessly. Her eyes went wide in the blackness and she felt Callum settle her atop his lap. But she could not protest. Darkness might cloak even the most salacious actions, but it could not mute words.
Now it was Jenny's turn to gasp as she became aware of the hard bulge upon which she now sat.
"This is unseemly, Callum. We are not alone," she whispered, instantly forgetting her shock as he traced the rim of her lip with the tip of his tongue, making her feel drugged and oddly drowsy.
"Shh. No one can see us, lass."
More than hearing his words, she felt them breathed hotly upon her lips, coaxing her mouth open so she might catch each one.
At once, she was obsessed with the desire to feel the contours of his body. She leaned firmly against him, pressing harder and harder as his tongue slid inside her mouth.
She felt his fingers flutter eagerly over her waist, and excitement surged inside of her as she imagined his
143
hands touching her elsewhere. Then, as if she had willed it into occurring, his fingers began their slow climb upward over her bodice.
When his broad hand cupped her breast, she wanted to moan aloud, and indeed would have had his mouth not devoured the breath the sound rode before it escaped her.
Callum's hand moved agonizingly slowly, his fingers spreading wide, until through the gray silk, his thumb and forefinger came together around her hardened nipple and squeezed it gently.
Jenny's eyes snapped wide, and she pulled away from him, retreating to the far edge of the settee. He had supposed too much.
There were others in this room after all and only the veriest rake would dare attempt such a scandalous thing.
Oh, my word.
Why had she not realized it? A wash of heat suffused her cheeks.
She had thought he was being genuine. Letting her come close, letting himself feel something for her.
But she had been wrong, hadn't she?
The walls around his heart stood ever stalwart and unbreachable.
The rogue had returned to his keep.
But then his hand reached for hers again, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I am sorry, Jenny. My passions got the better of me and I regret it. I want ye, want ye somethin' fierce, but I dinna wish to lose you."
She turned her head back to consider him, to see if the truth glistened in his eyes, but there was only darkness. Still, Jenny wondered, if for only an instant, if she had judged him unfairly.
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Maybe, in all honesty, he did feel something for he
r
—
s
omething more than needless lust.
But it wasn't love. Mustn't fool herself about that.
Most certainly not.
******************
Thankfully, due to Meredith's performance's miserable failure to impress, the evening was drawn to an early close, much to Jenny's relief.
While the widow and Callu
m
were each handed their hats and wraps by the glow of a lone candle, Jenny enfolded herself in the shadows once more.
"Lord Argyll." The Widow McCarthy slipped her bony arm around his. "You will be so kind as to escort me next door, won't you? Being alone, as I am, I have a fear of venturing into the nigh
t
—
t
he thieves you know. Why, they attacked Mrs. Potswallow just this morn. Got away with her miser bag, I heard, but left her with a goose egg on her skull the size of a fist." She feigned a body-rattling shiver. "I own, I fear they may be waiting just outside to take advantage of a poor defenseless woman."
From the protection of the darkness, Jenny all but snarled at the wanton widow. Even in the low light of a single candle, Jenny could see the way her bulging eyes greedily devoured Callum. Jenny cocked a brow at her, sure that if anyone was taken advantage of this night, it would be Lord Argyll.
Callum's wry expression was plain too. "But of course. I shall be honored."
The widow and Callum bid Meredith and the Feath-
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ertons good eve, and as they neared the front door the odd pair paused before Jenny.
The widow squinted and leaned forward, as if trying to see her better. "I do apologize that we did not have a chance to better know each other this eve."
Jenny pressed the back of her head against the joining of walls, desperately trying to cloak her face in the deepest shadow in the entryway. Her breath came fast.
The widow held her tongue silent for a moment as if considering something. "I own, if you would condescend to join me for tea on Friday afternoon, perhaps we could discover together from whence I know you. For you do look familiar and I never forget a face."
Jenny's heart skipped like a flat pebble across a pond. There was absolutely no way she could take tea with the widow. Why, the crafty madam would realize her identity if her gaze settled upon her for yet another single unbroken minute!
Jenny's uncomfortable silence somehow urged Ca
ll
u
m
into the breach.
"Lady Genevieve has agreed to join me for a stroll in Sydney Gardens on Friday."
The breath Jenny had not realized she'd been holding slowly expelled from her lungs. "Yes, I am sorry, Lady McCarthy. Perhaps another time?"
The widow's eyes grew small as pinpricks. "To Sydney Gardens ... in the winter? H
m
m. W-we
ll
, I suppose we could take tea o
n
—"
Callu
m
pulled the widow's arm tight against his ribs, and her words were left poised in the air, replaced by a girlish giggle as he led her to the door. "Come along, madam, if ye please. The night grows late and I confess to an early appointment on the morrow."
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"Oh,
of course,
my lord."
As Callu
m
escorted her over the threshold, the widow shot a smug glance over her shoulder, undoubtedly meant for Jenny.
As Mr. Edgar closed the door behind them, and her mother busied herself lighting the candles in the drawing room and the sconces in the entry hall, Jenny caught a glimpse of herself in the gilt mirror in the passage.
The sight gave her a jolt right down to her slippers. Her face was a mottled blend of white powder and red skin where the facial concealing cream had dried and broken off like cracked p
l
aster from an ancient wall.
Lady Letitia laid a hand on Jenny's shoulder. "Reducing the candles to one was the only way, but I think the evening was quite the success." She looked back at Lady Viola. "Do you not agree, Sister?"
Lady Viola tapped her cane upon the floor as she neared. "Well, 'tis not for us to say. Jenny, you and Argyll slipped into the darkness together for quite some time." She paused, and Jenny knew she awaited a recounting, but she was not about to give it. "And you did accept his invitation, it seems, for Sydney Gardens . . ."
Jenny nodded, hoping to purchase a little more time to craft her words, but the Feathertons stared impatiently. "To be honest, my ladies, I am not sure of our progress. At times, I think he harbors
some
feelings for me."
"Well, he likes you well enough, I'd say." Meredith gestured to Jenny's face. "The concealing cream is
completely
gone from around your mouth."
The two Featherton sisters chuckled at that.
"So he kissed you again, did he?" Lady Letitia brashly asked.
147
"Yes," Jenny sighed then and brought her palms to her swollen cheeks. "Oh, I am so confused. He has a reputation as a rake of the first order."
"Is that all?
"
Lady Viola laughed at that. "Well, you are righ
t
—
i
n part. From what I know, and this information comes from a most reliable source, mind you, he has left a trail of broken hearts from Aberdeen to Cornwall."
Clearing her throat loudly, Meredith interrupted her aunt. "Not helping, Auntie ..." she murmured through nearly closed lips.
"Darling, allow me to finish." Lady Viola took Jenny's shoulders and stared up into her eyes. "He dances with them at assemblies, or woos them at parties. But for only one night. No more. There has never been an exception to his one-woman, one-night habi
t
—
u
ntil now. Or so I've heard."
A nervous twitch fired through Jenny as she considered what she'd just been told.
Could it be? Was it possible, that like her, he was beginning to fall in love?
******************
By the next morning the swelling and redness were gone, thanks to her mother's suggestion that before going to bed Jenny repeatedly plunge her face into a basin of icy well water.
This was good, of course, and Jenny knew she should be happy, but she wasn't.
Dread sat heavily upon her chest making even the act of breathing difficul
t
... or maybe it was her new corset. Still, she now had no excuse not to visit Mr.
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Bartleby as she'd promised. He would not have made his way all the way up the Royal Crescent just to discuss her account. Heavens! She didn't owe him that much, or at least she didn't think she did. Mayhap she should have looked at the last accounting notice he'd sent to the house before dropping it into the f
i
re.
No, his addressing her as Lady Eros told her exactly the topic of conversation he wanted to pursue. Jenny wondered how he'd made the connection. It made no sense for anyone in service to expose her, for they'd be risking losing the income they made from the cream.
After waking and dressing Meredith, Jenny retrieved her gray wool shawl, for she decided it was important that she resume her lady's maid role for this particular meeting.
As she walked through the kitchen, she caught a lustrous glow from the corner of her eye, and turned.
Jupiter!
There dangling from the ears of one of the wretched scullery maids was a set of pearl earbobs. And they were from Bartleb
y
's shop too. Second case from the far left on the top shelf. But how could the scullery maid affor
d
—
o
ooh. Of course.
"Oy, Er
m
a." Narrowing her eyes, Jenny started for the chit, fists clenched.
When the scullery maid saw Jenny's face, she turned with a yelp and hid behind her plump friend, the other scullery maid, Martha. "Leave me be, Jenny. I didn't mean nothin' by it."
"You told him / was the source of the cream. Do you know what you've done?" Jenny growled while reaching around Martha for Erma, who bobbed and dodged to escape her.
Martha folded her arms and lifted her chin to Jenny.
149
"What
do you think you're goin' to do about it? You can't do nothin', for if you do, the ladies above stairs will hear what you're up to."
Jenny lowered her hands and thought. Then she turned on her heel and headed off for the door.
"
That's right, Jenny. You can't do nothin'," Er
m
a called out after her.
Jenny stopped, and glanced back over her shoulder. "I don't
have
to do anything but go and meet with Mr. Bartleby. But once I tell Bath's service staff who cut off their income, I do not doubt they will wish to ...
discuss
it with you."
Even after Jenny closed the door, she could hear Er
m
a's anguished shriek.
******************
When Jenny entered Bartleby's, draping herself with a mantle of false calm, a bell affixed to a metal coil over her head drew the shopkeeper's attention.
A slow smile crept across his face. He quickly closed and locked his money box, then headed for the door and flipped over the water-stained wood sign to read closed from the street.
Setting her shoulders, Jenny lifted her nose arrogantly. "Let us not delay, for I have not much time to spare. Last night you had the audacity to interrupt my ladies' party to demand I meet you this day. I wish to know why."
Bartleby chuckled and with his elbow resting on the countertop, he shifted his weight to lean upon it. "Pretty hoity-toity these days, aren't you, Miss Penny?"
Jenny glanced up at the figure scrawled next to her
150
name on Bartleby's account chalkboard. Then, with a curt nod, she withdrew a miser bag from her basket and tossed it upon the counter beside him. "This should be more than enough to settle my account. Good day, sir." Raising a brow, she turned her back on him and started for the door.