Chapter 9
Nine
S he was doing this for Augusta .
Sage repeated the words silently as she followed Jackson outside into the overgrown backyard. She had scissors and a comb along with his shaving kit while he carried a chair from the breakfast room and a basin of warm water.
Long, dry grass crunched beneath her feet, and the morning sunshine bathed her head. She drew in the fresh air that she was growing to love and tried to calm her racing pulse.
Jackson paused only a dozen steps from the back porch. “Where would you like me to place the chair?”
“How about under the shade of the maple?” She nodded at the closest tree at the center of the yard. Some of the golden leaves had already fallen, but most were rustling gently in the breeze.
Jackson placed the basin in the grass, situated the chair, then stood back from it, as if he were to touch it again, he might get bit.
For as nervous as she was, the same sense of urgency as before prodded her. She needed to give him the haircut right away before he changed his mind, ran off, and barricaded himself in his study. From the hesitancy he’d had all along, she suspected his decision had been rash, and that he’d regretted it from the second he’d uttered it.
Regardless of how either of them felt, she was determined to see the deed done. For Augusta’s sake.
“Go ahead and sit.” She placed her items on the grass behind the chair.
He stared at the chair without a sign that he’d heard her.
She rounded the chair toward him, grasped his arm, and gently guided him to the chair. Then she pressed against his shoulder until he lowered himself. When he was finally seated, he remained stiff and unmoving.
“I promise this won’t take long.” She draped a towel around his shoulders to protect his clothing from the hair.
He remained silent.
Maybe she needed to distract him, get him conversing about something he loved. Since he’d been talkative when he’d discussed constructing bridges, perhaps he’d enjoy sharing about his designing and building of his house.
The back side of the fairy-castle-like house was every bit as elaborate and beautiful as the front with large windows, elaborate trim, and tasteful shades of blue. “You have a lovely home. Augusta mentioned that you came up with the design yourself.”
“I did.”
“What made you choose this particular style? Is it similar to your childhood home?”
“Oh no. This is completely different.”
“How so?”
Thankfully, her questions seemed to put him at ease, and he began to share all the details that had gone into designing the house. As he talked, she set to work cutting his hair into the most fashionable style that she’d seen during the ship voyage as well as her time so far in Victoria—a side part with the hair combed back from the face.
Long dark locks fell into the grass, until at last she had his hair short enough to shape neatly and trim evenly. All the while she worked, he talked and seemed oblivious to what she was doing. When she finished and came around to the front with the bowl of lathered soap and the razor blade, he finally halted.
She cocked her head and studied him. He no longer looked quite so overgrown, but the dark facial hair was overbearing and needed to go.
Without waiting for his permission, she dipped her fingers into the soap mixture and touched it to his jaw.
He flinched.
“You were telling me about the turrets.” She gave a nod to the closest one. “What purpose do they serve? The rooms at the top seem too small to be bedrooms or even sitting rooms.”
“I see what you’re doing here.” He’d stiffened again, his back straight and his shoulders rigid against the chair.
“You did want a shave too, didn’t you?” She smoothed more of the soap mixture over his face.
“Do I have a choice?”
She shifted the razor blade to his skin and made the first long rake, removing the hair and leaving stubble in its place. “Not really.” She’d all but made it impossible for him to leave now, not unless he wanted a stripe in his beard.
He was silent as she scraped again, the soothing sound reminding her of her dad and the many years she’d watched him shave in the small mirror that he perched on the high window ledge of their flat.
“I know what you’re doing,” he repeated. “You got me talking so that I wouldn’t notice you cutting my hair.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
He reached up a hand and tentatively touched his head. “Yes, it most certainly did work.”
“Tell me more about the turrets,” she persisted. “What do you envision for them? Why did you create them?”
He didn’t respond this time. Instead, his gray-blue eyes shifted to her face. “I’ve been rattling all about myself. Tell me more about you.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Who is David?”
Her heart thudded a painful beat at the mention of his name, the same way it had when Augusta had spoken his name earlier. “You may ask me anything else besides that.”
“So he’s the reason you came to the colony?” He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Because you wanted to leave him behind?”
She hesitated. Should she answer? She could surely do so without having to talk about David. “I came because I hope to earn enough to send for Dad and my sisters, so that they can come live here too.” Although the ache for them had dulled just a little, she still thought of them and prayed for them every day and hoped they were surviving without her there to oversee them.
“Not your mother?” His question was hesitant.
Sage swallowed the heartache that came whenever she thought about her mum passing. “No, she died last winter.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She would be happy I made it.”
For a short while, Jackson surprised her by asking more about her family, her sisters, her parents, and what her life had been like in Manchester. As she shaved, she told him about her years working in the mill, how she’d toiled long hours to help support her family, and that when the mills had closed, Willow had been the first of her family to immigrate to Vancouver Island.
“So you hope the rest of your family will be able to come soon?”
“Yes, I hope it won’t be too long.”
His gaze had been riveted to her face for most of the shave, and now as she allowed herself to meet his gaze.
The compassion in his eyes was unexpected.
A lump formed in her throat, and she rapidly shifted her attention back to the blade. His face was narrower without all the hair, a distinguished slender shape. His jaw was more angular than she’d realized, and his chin was strongly chiseled too.
She’d had to lather him twice and was now finishing the final drags to clear away the dark stubble that had remained. Each pull of the razor revealed fine, smooth skin. His lips were now visible, perfectly proportioned and firm, and she imagined he probably had a nice smile, if he ever smiled.
“I’m sorry you had to leave them behind.” He spoke softly. “I can tell you miss them and are worried about them.”
The sadness within her swelled again. “Once I see Willow, we can work together to make it happen.” She only had to wait until Saturday, and she’d finally be reunited with her sister—at least she hoped so.
He stared off into the distance, turning suddenly quiet.
With a final scrape, she removed the last section of stubble. She set the razor blade in the basin of murky water then lifted the towel from his shoulders, shook the hair from it, and used the edge to wipe away the remaining suds on his face.
He sat forward abruptly. “I shall loan you the money for their passage.”
A loan? She grew motionless, not sure how to respond.
“Yes, that’s what we shall do.” His posture radiated sudden determination. “I shall have my solicitor in London purchase their tickets and deliver them to Manchester.”
“Thank you. That’s a generous offer.” She brushed at the remaining hairs on his neck. “But I could never accept the money, not when I don’t know when or if I could pay it back.”
“You could take as long as you need to do so.” His tone held sincerity, as if he really did care about her family’s welfare.
She swiped at the fine hairs that littered his shirt collar. “You’re kind, Mr. Lennox. But it just wouldn’t be right?—”
“After all you’ve done for Augusta…and for me since your arrival…it’s the least I can do.”
She paused in her wiping. Should she consider his offer? It would be so wonderful to know that her dad and sisters were on their way, that they would all be together again, and that they could start a new life here.
“Please think about it?”
She stared down at the grass and twisted the tip of her boot. She could at least ponder the option, couldn’t she?
“Consider it part of my payment for your willingness to give the shaggy beast a much-needed haircut and shave.”
Remorse cut through her, and she lifted her gaze to his again. “Mr. Lennox, please. I called you that out of frustration but did not mean it.”
Sadness rimmed his eyes. “I regret I have been so focused on my own problems that I’ve neglected to think about anyone else.”
For the first time since she’d started cutting his hair, she stood back and took in the full effect of her work. As she swept her gaze over him, she drew in a sharp breath. The transformation was incredible.
“What’s wrong?” He lifted a hand to his head as though maybe he’d find a bald spot.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
He had a very nice-looking face—suave, clean-cut, and refined. But taken as a whole, from his neatly trimmed hair, chiseled features, and long, lean body, he was incredibly handsome, especially with such unique gray-blue eyes.
He was the kind of fashionable gentleman who would draw everyone’s attention as he strolled down a main thoroughfare. In fact, he was so debonair that she could picture him as a prince walking out of Buckingham Palace to the fanfare of ladies waving and smiling and vying for his attention.
“You don’t like how I look now?” A note of worry edged his voice.
“Oh, I do.” She tried to dampen her enthusiasm. She didn’t want him to know she’d just been thinking about how handsome he was. That would be much too embarrassing. “You cleaned up very nicely, and Augusta will be delighted.”
He peered at her as intensely as he always did, as though trying to see more deeply into her mind. But somehow this time, without all the scruff to hide his forceful personality and his attractive face, she felt a little bit like she had at the equator during her voyage there, the sun shining directly upon her, more concentrated and powerful, the heat of the rays making her suddenly too warm, and even weak.
He rubbed a hand over his bare chin. “I suppose I look like a different person entirely.”
“Very different, yes.” She needed to look away from him, but she was too fascinated by his face now that it was visible.
“My face does feel rather strange and bare.”
“And cold?”
His lips twitched. Was that the beginning of a smile? What could she say that would bring the smile out completely?
She wasn’t naturally witty or humorous. She couldn’t banter for the life of her. She was actually too serious most of the time. Why at the moment did she care about any of that? This was Jackson, not a potential suitor.
She needed to clean up the supplies she’d brought out and then start on the list of tasks that still needed to be done before the dinner party.
“Something must be odd,” he remarked quietly, “since you’re still staring at me.”
“No.” She tore her gaze from him and stooped to pick up several items from the grass. “I apologize for staring. It was rude of me.”
“It’s not rude. I like it.” The moment he spoke the words, he pushed up from the chair and ducked out from underneath the tree.
He liked that she was staring at him? That was an odd thing for him to say. Regardless, the words put her at ease, and she let her shoulders relax. The least she could do was put him at ease too. “You look grand, dapper even.”
The stiffness in his posture fell away, and he seemed almost peaceful. With his back facing her, he tilted his face up and let the sun bathe his skin.
He stood that way for a moment, and even from behind, she couldn’t keep from admiring him. He did, indeed, look like another man altogether with the short-clipped hair and clean-shaven face.
Stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, he shifted around and faced her again. This time, he took her in from her neat chignon to her simple but fashionable blouse and skirt—another outfit that Augusta had given to her.
He’d been able to view her for who she really was all along. He’d even gotten a glimpse of her not-so-perfect side, and he wasn’t mad at her. But he’d been hidden and was now just beginning to show who he really was. In some ways it felt as if they were meeting for the first time—at least from her perspective.
As his gaze slid back up her body, the intense heat in his eyes once again warmed her and even sent a strange tremor through her stomach.
He tilted his head to one side as if he were still analyzing her and calculating something about her. “Thank you. You were kind to be willing to aid me so graciously and with something that falls outside your duties.”
Her duties. He was right. She was only a lady’s maid. How could she forget about that even for a second?
“That’s what I’m here for. To help.” She curtsied and then resumed picking up the rest of the items she’d brought out. Somehow she needed to put their relationship back into the proper order and do away with the familiarity.
“Yes, I guess that’s true.” He hesitated then glanced at the house, as if expecting someone to be peering out at them from one of the windows, watching them.
No one was in sight.
Regardless, she hastened to dump the water from the basin, tossed the supplies in it, and then crossed to the servants’ entrance that led to the kitchen in the lower level. All the while, she could feel Jackson watching her. And all the while, her body tingled with the realization he was watching her.
When she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, she leaned back against it, pressed a hand to her chest and to her heartbeat that was racing faster than normal. Then she lifted her hand to her cheek which felt hotter than usual.
What was wrong with her? Was she letting Jackson fluster her?
With a firm shake of her head, she started down the dark hallway toward the kitchen. “No,” she whispered harshly. Just because he was surprisingly attractive didn’t mean she would let him turn her head. Nothing good would come of allowing that to happen.
She didn’t want to lose herself over another man. She was content working for Augusta and had already resigned herself to being a spinster.
Besides, as kind and progressive as Augusta was, she wouldn’t approve of Sage spending time with Jackson. Even the smallest hint of inappropriate behavior would be grounds for dismissal, and at this point, Sage needed the job too much to do anything that might jeopardize it.
Just because she’d cut Jackson’s hair didn’t mean anything would change in their relationship. It would go on as it always had, and that’s all she had to say on the matter.