Chapter Twenty-Two
He didn’t kiss her again, though he held her hand while the hackney travelled across the city.
Janelle sat as close as she could, brushing his shoulder with hers and pressing her thigh against his.
He intertwined their fingers, his grip strong.
How ridiculous that she was falling in love with the strength and size of his hand.
She knew that the hard bones supported strong muscles, but he also could be extraordinarily gentle.
And right then, he was surrounding her tinier hand with his, and she had never felt more cherished or protected.
He walked her to the servant entrance of her home.
She always carried the key, as she was well used to slipping inside in the early morning hours.
Nanny kept a candle burning for her there.
She tried to pull him inside, but he refused.
He was Major Vance again, and nothing would sway him from acting in the most formal manner.
He was an aide-de-camp assuring his superior officer’s fiancée remained safe.
Since she could not kiss him, she gave him the only thing he would accept.
She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and then she dropped into the most formal of curtsies she’d ever made.
Indeed, she would not drop so low before the king himself.
And when she straightened, he looked at her with a half-quirked smile.
Did he think she was mocking him? She was not.
“Gabriel,” she began, but he cut her off.
“Thank you for the most glorious of evenings, Miss Caddick.”
“When will I see you again?”
He answered with a shrug as he turned away, carefully shutting the door lest it make an untoward sound. He needn’t have worried. She made sure the hinges were well oiled.
She listened for his footstep, but she couldn’t hear anything through the door.
Which meant that her evening was over. Her magical night was at an end, and she must rest now.
She never knew from one night to the next if she’d be up all night with a patient or dancing until dawn.
How wonderful it would be to finally have a home of her own, one where she need not hide what she did. At least not from her family.
She wondered for a moment if that were possible with Lord Benedict, but her entire body recoiled at having to think about her future with anyone who was not Gabriel.
She would much rather wander through memories of what she’d done this night.
Of what he’d looked like just before he kissed her.
Of how he’d touched her and how she had given herself over to him in all ways but one.
She was a wanton now because she longed to do everything again as often as possible. Especially if she could explore his body as he had done hers.
There was a cooled basin of water in her room, left so she could sponge away the detritus of Betty’s work.
For the first time in years, she ignored it.
She had no desire to wash away his scent on her skin.
She set her large bag in its place along with her attire.
Nanny would see her things cleaned. Then she climbed into bed, hating the coarse brush of her nightrail.
She wanted Gabriel holding her this night.
She wrapped herself in memories instead and pretended the sheets were his body.
Then she slept deeply the whole night through. The whole night and the morning, too. She woke after noon when Nanny brought her strong tea and a letter.
“It must have been a terribly late night,” the woman said, “but this just arrived in the post. You cannot neglect it.”
Janelle yawned and stretched, feeling the pull of muscles that she’d rarely used before last night. She was a fit woman, well used to overtired muscles, but this ache was new. The sensation was deep in her belly, and she smiled against her pillow.
“A good birth then?” Nanny asked. “Something special?”
“Very,” she said, mentally chastising herself for being so open with her thoughts.
Some secrets should be kept from even her beloved Nanny.
“It took much longer than expected but was very happy in the end.” What a lie that was.
Already her mind was turning toward last night’s ending.
She had made her choice and, she hoped, so had Gabriel.
But that path could only lead to heartbreak. Unless she found a way out.
“Nanny,” she said as she pushed herself upright. “Is Papa awake?”
“He is just now rising, which is why I came to wake you. He’ll want teatime with you, you know.”
She did. “Is it as late as that?”
“You’ve a couple hours. Read your letter, then you’ll be able to plan your day.”
She didn’t want to read her letter. She’d seen out of the corner of her eye who it was from, and had no desire to touch anything from Lord Benedict just yet. But she couldn’t avoid it. Not with Nanny watching her with a too-discerning gaze.
She picked up the fine linen, noted the elegant stretch and curve of his letters, and forced herself to touch the hard wax cast of his seal on the back.
It was done with his heavy signet ring, the mark of the earldom.
If she stayed the course, she would have a similar ring, one that was slender enough for a woman’s hand but still forming the bear and bell of his crest.
“Nanny,” she began, “what do you think Papa would say if I cried off?”
“Cried off of what? Never say you’re rethinking Lord Benedict!”
Janelle winced at the woman’s outraged tone.
The woman was her co-conspirator in more than just her work as Betty.
She managed the staff with a discerning eye, she set it such that Betty could test potions in the stillroom, and she had acted as confidante and best friend from the beginning.
After all, she’d come to the household when Janelle was a lonely, neglected little girl.
“I don’t even know Lord Benedict.” It was the plaintive cry of a child, and she knew it.
Her father had made it clear from her earliest days that she would marry the man he picked for her.
She might be a lowly baron’s daughter, but she would marry into the aristocracy by hook or crook.
And now that he had an earl caught, he would not let her cry off without consequence.
“Janelle!” Nanny snapped as she sat down on the bed. “Your father will disown you for sure.”
“Then I’ll go out as Betty and be done with it.”
“And how will you eat? Where will you sleep?”
“Midwives make enough to live on—”
“Some.”
“And I can apprentice at the hospital. I’ve saved the money to do it.”
Nanny sighed as she studied her charge. Janelle had long since grown into a woman, but that hard stare never failed to make her fidget.
“Out with it,” Nanny ordered. Goodness, she hadn’t used that tone of voice since Janelle had been sixteen and keen on a farm boy she’d met as Betty. And how embarrassing that she found herself in the exact same situation nearly a decade later.
“I’ve met a man,” she finally confessed. “A good one who cares for me as well.”
“Does he know what you do? Who you are?”
She nodded. “He knows all of it.”
“Ack, child,” Nanny cried. “And who are you to tell anyone such things? Don’t you see how it will bring all of it down around our ears?”
“He won’t tell. And he values me for the work I do.”
Nanny didn’t argue, but her tight lips expressed her feelings clearly.
“You needn’t worry about your job,” she said. “I would bring you with me. You can set up my home and manage—”
“With what money? Does this man, this paragon of virtue who would keep you from being a countess—does he have enough money to keep you in half of what you’re used to?”
She didn’t answer. Truthfully, she didn’t know how much money the major had.
“Does this man work?” Nanny pressed.
“He does, but…” She sighed. “He would have to leave it.”
“And what sort of honest labor does he do that he would leave it when he gains a wife? It’s for certain that he’s thinking of the money you’ll make as a midwife, then, but I tell you, it’s not enough. You won’t even charge the people you help—”
“I would start—”
“And what will you do when your own babes come? You can’t help someone else deliver a baby when you’re thick with child yourself.
I might be there to help you rear them, but it takes money to feed and house them.
Think of your own childhood. Your father’s a hard man, I won’t argue that, but you had food, clothing, and a lady’s education.
Respect, too. Everyone you met tipped their caps to you and treated you fair.
Betty won’t have that, any more than Mrs. Sundy did. ”
“Mrs. Sundy has a good life!” she cried.
“Aye, she does because you protected her. You, the baron’s daughter, sang her praises and gave the cold shoulder to any who would treat her ill. That kept the nasties away, and a hard time she’s having now with you away.”
Janelle’s head snapped up. “What? What do you mean?”
Nanny waved the question away. “Only that Mrs. Sundy is not as young as she once was and it’s a hard life she has.”
“I’ll send her money,” she said. Indeed, she had planned to set the woman up more comfortably once she had more money of her own. But that couldn’t happen, could it, if she cried off from Lord Benedict.
Nanny could see the thoughts cross her face, but rather than become more sympathetic, she pushed her point. “You won’t have the money to help yourself, much less her. And without money and status, you won’t have protection either. Will this man without work shield you?”
“Yes, he will.” She knew that for certain. “He is honorable, through and through.”
Nanny’s eyes narrowed. “And has he spoken of marriage to you? If he knows who you are to wed, would he still take you away from all that?”
She sniffed, setting aside Lord Benedict’s letter so that she could not see it. “He might,” she said quietly. “If he knew I was no longer bound to Lord Benedict.”