Chapter 16 #2
She sniffed, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of gratitude. “Yes—but again, under protest. And only because you saved my niece’s life this day.”
Once their horses were secured, Alistair and Rupert climbed into the coach. Alistair settled himself across from Jane and Lady Cosima. The rhythm of the wheels on the road lulled them into silence, and for a time he was content simply to watch Jane.
At last, Jane broke the quiet. “Do you think Charlotte will object to us staying in your townhouse?”
“No,” Alistair replied. “I think she will relish the company.”
Jane’s eyes searched his. “And what will you tell her?”
“The truth,” Alistair said after a pause. “It is the only proper course left to us.”
“I agree, wholeheartedly,” Jane replied with a smile that he suspected was just for him.
That smile pierced through him, filling his chest with an ache that was both sweet and terrifying. How could she smile like that, after what she had endured today? How could she still shine with such resilience and warmth?
Just when he had believed his life would be duty, shadows, and the lingering weight of the war, along came Jane.
And now, with the world crumbling around them, he picked this moment to fall in love. It was madness.
Jane sat in a bedchamber at Alistair’s townhouse, the hush of the evening pressing gently against the long windows veiled with soft blue drapes.
The chamber itself was elegant—tasteful, even soothing—with a grand bed dressed in silken sheets.
Yet she could not bring herself to take comfort in such luxury.
Her thoughts were not on the furnishings but upon her family, particularly her brother.
Adam had abducted her and tried to barter her into marriage with the duke.
Even now, she could scarcely fathom the treachery of it.
She had long known there was no love lost between them, but somewhere, buried deep within her heart, she had clung to the foolish hope that beneath his harshness there lingered some faint spark of brotherly concern.
That fragile hope was over now. Adam had shown his true nature, and in so doing, he had lost whatever claim he might have once had on her affections.
She straightened her shoulders. He had played his hand and lost. Now she must think no more of him. It was time to move forward.
A knock at the door startled her from her reflections.
“Enter,” Jane called out.
The door opened to reveal Charlotte, radiant in a pale yellow gown that complemented her fair complexion.
“I came to see how you are settling in,” Charlotte said with a smile.
Jane rose from the settee and gestured with a sweep of her hand towards the elegant surroundings. “Everything is so beautiful.”
Charlotte’s smile widened, her expression tinged with pride. “I designed this room myself. I thought it would be enjoyable to change things up.”
“Bravo,” Jane said. “You truly outdid yourself.”
Charlotte stepped farther in and lowered her voice. “Alistair told me about what happened. I am truly sorry.”
Jane forced her lips into a small smile, though her heart still ached from the memory. “It is all right. After all, one does not choose one’s family, does one?” She tried to keep her tone light, as though her brother’s betrayal were but a trifling matter.
Charlotte’s expression softened. “Still, one hardly expects them to resort to such nefarious intentions.”
“That is true,” Jane admitted, though the words tasted bitter. She drew in a breath. “I am grateful to you for allowing us to stay here.”
“I am delighted,” Charlotte replied. “We have not had company in ages, and it will help ease some of my boredom.”
“You are most kind.”
Charlotte sat upon the edge of the bed. “Besides,” she said with a conspiratorial smile, “even if I objected, I doubt Alistair would listen. He is rather enamored with you.”
Heat rose at once to Jane’s cheeks. She busied herself smoothing her gown, unwilling to meet Charlotte’s knowing eyes. “I only hope no one discovers we are here,” she said quickly, eager to divert the conversation.
“Do not fret,” Charlotte reassured her. “Our servants know how to be discreet. Well, except for the footman who tried to kill Alistair—but he was newly hired.”
Jane hesitated, then decided boldness was better than dissembling. “And what of Mr. Fairchild? Will he report on us being here?”
Charlotte stiffened, just a fraction, but Jane saw it, nonetheless. “I cannot see how he would know.”
“I know about your secret,” Jane admitted. “I once searched my uncle’s study and found an article you wrote. It was not difficult to deduce the truth. Rest assured that your secret is safe with me.”
“Will you tell Alistair?” Charlotte asked.
Jane shook her head. “No. It is not my secret to share. But I confess I envy you. I wish I had the courage to do what you have done.”
“Write an article?” Charlotte blinked. “It is hardly a feat of strength.”
“Not the writing,” Jane clarified. “The boldness to act. To risk disapproval. I have lived in dread of offending my family my entire life.”
Charlotte smirked faintly. “How ironic. You spent all those years yearning for their approval, and now you want nothing to do with them.”
Jane lowered her gaze, the truth of it cutting deep. “My father only seemed to notice me when I obeyed his every command.”
“My father never noticed me at all,” Charlotte replied. “No matter what I did, it earned me nothing. So I ceased trying. I chose to live for myself instead.”
“That is admirable.”
Charlotte gave a wistful sigh. “Perhaps. But I would rather have had a father who doted on me, even excessively. Instead, I was merely an afterthought. My very existence reminded him of what he had lost—his wife. I was left in her stead, and he resented me for it.”
Jane’s chest ached with sympathy. “That was not your fault.”
“I know,” Charlotte said, though her voice wavered. “At least, part of me knows. But another part cannot help feeling… unlovable.”
Jane crossed to the bed and sat beside her, reaching out to clasp her hand. “Oh, Charlotte. That is not true. Everyone deserves to be loved.”
Charlotte gave a small shrug. “Well, my brother loves me. Perhaps that is enough.”
“No,” Jane insisted. “You are young, with a whole future before you. Why, you are the diamond of the Season.”
Charlotte’s gaze fell. “Perhaps. But I was eclipsed by the heiress of the Season.”
Jane squeezed her hand. “Do not belittle yourself. You earned your title. My inheritance was mere circumstance, but your crown was won.”
“Forgive me. I should not complain.”
“You are not complaining,” Jane said firmly. “And if you were, I would welcome it. Everyone needs to unburden themselves from time to time. It reminds us that we are human.”
“Thank you. When I confide in Alistair, he always tries to solve my troubles. Sometimes I just want someone to listen.”
Jane released her hand with a small smile. “That is what Alistair does. He is always seeking to mend what is broken.”
“He is a good brother, especially since returning from the war. Before, he was miserable.”
“I know he struggled with his father,” Jane murmured.
“Yes. Father expected too much of Alistair and too little of me,” Charlotte said dryly. “I am surprised he even remembered my name, considering he never once celebrated my birthday.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “Not once?”
“Why should he celebrate the child who had taken everything from him?” Charlotte asked. “Still, my governess would find ways to make it special, and that was enough, at least for a little while.”
Jane felt a lump form in her throat. How different their lives were, and yet how alike the wounds left by neglect and cruelty.
A mischievous smile curved Charlotte’s lips. “The worst part is that I was not easy on my governesses.”
“Governesses? As in more than one?”
Charlotte widened her eyes in mock innocence. “I cannot help it if they fled after only a few months. Hardly my fault if they lacked stamina.”
Jane laughed, the sound breaking free before she could stop it. “You are awful.”
Charlotte gave a delicate shrug. “Perhaps. But if I am to confess the truth, I think a part of me misbehaved in hopes that Father would take notice of me. That he might scold me, or at least acknowledge me. But it did not work. He never cared enough to intervene.”
The faint ache in Charlotte’s voice tugged at Jane’s heart. She reached out, resting her hand lightly on Charlotte’s sleeve. “Well, you do not need to do that anymore. Just being you is more than enough.”
Before Charlotte could answer, the dinner bell rang in the distance, its faint chime carrying through the walls.
Charlotte rose gracefully from the bed. “Shall we walk down to the dining room?”
Jane smiled as she stood. “I would greatly appreciate it, considering I have not the slightest notion where it is.”
“That is precisely why I am here.”
They stepped into the corridor together and the sconces lining the walls cast a warm golden glow, their flames flickering as though in greeting.
Jane breathed in the faint scent of beeswax polish and lavender—details that reminded her how different this house was from the one she had grown up in. Here, the air felt tended, welcoming.
They walked in companionable silence for a time, but Jane’s curiosity soon overcame her. In a lowered voice, she asked, “I find myself wondering—how is it that Mr. Fairchild seems to know all the latest gossip before anyone else?”
Charlotte’s lips twitched knowingly. “That is simple. I pay my servants generously to keep me informed. One would be amazed at what they overhear in shops, at markets, even when we are waiting in line to purchase ribbons. And it is not just one servant—I have cultivated a network. They do my bidding without even realizing how useful they are to me.”
Jane raised her brows, impressed. “That is ingenious.”
“Indeed,” Charlotte agreed. “And if that fails, there is always the simple art of listening while others grow indiscreet. People will spill their deepest secrets to anyone they think is inebriated. I have spent many balls with a glass of champagne in my hand, feigning tipsiness.” She leaned in closer.
“Quite frankly, I cannot abide the taste of the stuff, but you must never breathe a word of that to my brother.”
“My lips are sealed.”
Charlotte gave her arm a gentle squeeze before looping hers through it. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
They reached the top of the stairs, and Jane’s gaze was immediately drawn downward. Alistair stood in the entry hall below, tall and steady, his broad shoulders unmistakable even in the dim light. Aunt Cosima was beside him, animatedly speaking, though Jane hardly registered her words.
As if sensing Jane’s eyes upon him, Alistair looked up and smiled. She felt her lips mirror his without conscious thought.
He stepped forward, waiting at the base of the staircase. “Lady Jane,” he greeted.
Charlotte, still at her side, lifted her chin. “And Charlotte. Don’t forget that I am here as well.”
Alistair chuckled. “And Charlotte,” he echoed good-naturedly.
Jane’s heart gave the faintest flutter at the sound of his laughter, and she found herself grateful for Charlotte’s steadying presence at her side, lest she betray herself by lingering too long on the sight of him waiting for her.
Lord Rupert stepped out of the drawing room, his hand resting lightly on his stomach. “I will admit that I am rather starving.”
“That is good,” Alistair said, “because our cook has prepared a ragout of beef and custard pudding for dessert.”
Jane’s breath caught. “Those are my favorites!”
When her gaze flew to Alistair, she found his eyes already on her, sparkling with quiet amusement.
“I know,” he said, his voice lower now, as though meant for her alone. “I asked your aunt what dishes you prefer.”
Warmth spread through Jane’s chest. The simple thoughtfulness of the gesture—so unexpected—stirred something tender within her. “That was most considerate of you,” she murmured.
His expression grew earnest, the playful glimmer tempered by something deeper. “I want you to feel welcome here, Jane.” He cleared his throat, as if realizing the intensity of what he had said. “At least… for the time being.”
“I believe I shall—provided you continue serving my favorite dishes,” she replied.
At that, Charlotte leaned in, nudging Jane’s shoulder with her own. “Ask for a pineapple, please.”
Jane turned, brows arched in confusion. “Why a pineapple?”
“Because I adore pineapple tarts,” Charlotte replied, her lips forming an exaggerated pout. “But Alistair insists they are an unnecessary expense.”
Jane bit back a laugh, then tilted her head towards Alistair with mock solemnity. “Well then, may I have a pineapple?”
Alistair bowed with a hand to his chest. “For you, my lady—anything.”
Charlotte gave a dramatic sigh. “I feel betrayed, Brother. You deny me for years, yet you yield to her with a single request.”
“If you did more than sit about scribbling all day, Charlotte, I might be persuaded to purchase you a pineapple,” Alistair teased.
Jane’s smile lingered, though she tried to temper it.
She could not quite recall when last she had felt so at ease in a household not her own—when last she had been teased, indulged, and…
seen. And though she told herself it was all in jest, she could not shake the pleasant flutter in her heart at Alistair’s words: for you, my lady, anything.