Chapter Four #3
The nurse looked covertly pleased to be excused, although his mother’s expression as he ushered Jane and the children from the parlour was less easily deciphered.
She watched him go with the faintest hint of a smile and he was damned if he could tell whether it was amusement or pleasure at the prospect of having half an hour to herself that prompted it—or perhaps something else altogether, her eyes following him closely until he left the room.
The park was far busier than he’d hoped it would be. It seemed that half of Wilton had decided to take a post-dinner stroll and he sensed Jane’s unease as they walked the central promenade, aware that many of the people they passed gave her veil a second glance.
The cold wind plucked at it and swiftly she pulled the lace back down over her face. ‘This breeze is a menace. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come.’
Duncan turned to her. ‘Do you want to return to the house? We can always go back.’
‘No, no. I wouldn’t interrupt while the girls are enjoying themselves.’
Right on cue, three small cannonballs flew past, one with a skipping rope dangling forgotten from a pocket. Several glovefuls of grey, mushy snow were traded and then his nieces ran off again, leaving only a trail of boot-prints and echoing giggles in their wake.
He watched their retreating backs as they charged away. ‘Hmm. I think there might still be some work to be done before they can be called young ladies.’
Jane huffed a laugh. It didn’t ring entirely true, however, and Duncan gathered his nerve.
‘I know something’s bothering you,’ he began cautiously. ‘I can tell. You’ve been quiet since we left church and not even finding a coin in your Christmas pudding made you smile for long. Do you want to talk about it?’
For a moment she didn’t reply. She carried on walking beneath the snow-covered trees, her shoulder almost brushing the sleeve of his coat, but then he heard her sigh.
‘I can’t stop thinking about having to leave Wilton,’ she murmured. ‘I like it here, and returning to Bristol will put my parents under more financial strain than they are already. Given the choice, I wouldn’t go back.’
Duncan nodded, intending to look thoughtful rather than show the breathless anticipation that had begun to simmer. ‘I suppose you really have to leave? It seems cruel you should lose your home too, so soon after your great-aunt’s passing, especially since it seems so against your wishes.’
A snort came from behind the screen of black lace. ‘I think you heard dear Cousin Franklin. My wishes are irrelevant. There’s no alternative but to go; I have no employment here so I couldn’t afford to take rooms, and besides, my mother would never agree to me living alone.’
She seemed to huddle into herself, her shoulders rising to touch the bottom edge of her veil. Usually, knowing she was unhappy made him want to take her in his arms and this occasion was no exception, although for the first time another feeling rose to challenge its supremacy.
His hands were clasped behind his back and he felt their palms prickle with sudden, anxious sweat.
He wasn’t going to propose, he assured himself resolutely.
The risk was far too great: she’d turned him down before and the after-effects of her refusal had followed him across the sea, a constant source of sorrow that still sat inside him like a lump of ice.
To ask again would be the act of a fool, but he was as human as anyone else and the need to be sure that his suspicions were correct refused to be ignored.
Confusion and uncertainty were almost as bad as heartbreak and equally hard to withstand, and if he let the chance to shed such a burden slip through his fingers he would only have himself to blame.
‘What if there was a way for you to stay here in comfort and respectability?’ he muttered, hardly able to speak through dry lips. ‘If there was somewhere else you might call home?’
The turn of Jane’s head towards him was so sharp he wondered whether it had hurt her neck.
The inscrutable curtain of lace fluttered slightly. No words came from behind it but he knew she was staring at him, almost able to feel her eyes boring into his.
‘I think I would be glad of it, although I can’t imagine how such a thing could be managed. Can you?’
His breath stalled. ‘I… I couldn’t say.’
Inwardly, he cursed his lack of transparency. She’d met his cautious hint with one of her own and he was no closer to understanding her, left with no choice but to take a more forthright—and dangerous—approach.
‘Come through here. Off the path.’
His heart was beating too hard to hear if she made any reply, although when he hesitantly reached for her hand, she took his so readily there was no need for words.
The feeling of her fingers twining around his was more potent than the strongest wine and it made his head spin, only the knowledge that they were in public stopping him from lifting her veil and kissing her right then and there.
‘Girls. Through here.’
Nodding for his nieces to follow, he turned off the path, leading Jane by her unresisting hand. She seemed to be floating along beside him with little comprehension of where they were going and it made it easy to steer her through a broken section of hedge and into the trees beyond.
Once a safe distance from the path, he beckoned the girls closer.
‘Look.’ He pointed with a not entirely steady finger to a sapling a few yards away. ‘There’s a young oak over there that looks perfect for climbing. Why don’t you try? I won’t tell Grandmama if you won’t—just be careful not to fall.’
Three little faces lit up. Climbing trees was strictly forbidden and a sanctioned chance to break the rules was enough to send Charlotte and the twins scurrying off, their skirts flying as they hurried to leave him and Jane alone.
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of them.’
It sounded as though Jane was attempting to appear calm, although her body gave her away. With her hand still held captive in his, he could feel how it shook, a telltale tremor that hinted her tense expectation was every bit as strong as his.
‘Only for a moment. I’d like to speak to you without an audience.’
With a glance to make sure the children were in no danger, he drew her behind a tall shrub, his blood roaring in his ears. The gentle pressure of her fingers gave him courage, however, which was just as well, as for what he was about to do he needed all the courage he could find.
Very carefully, giving her plenty of time to twist free if she chose, he stepped closer. Her bonnet moved, tilting upward as she looked at him, and he gently shook his head.
‘No hiding now, Jane. If you’ll permit me, I’d rather look you in the eye.’
A beat of tension crackled in the air. The only sounds were the swishing of bare branches and the distant giggles of his nieces somewhere in the background, but then Jane lifted her free hand, the stiff fabric of her bonnet rasping softly against her glove as she pulled it from her head.
She looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and in them he thought he saw the same complex jumble of emotions that burned in his own chest. There was a very real possibility that he was wrong, that wishful thinking had clouded his judgement, but he’d come too far to back down now.
‘Jane,’ he choked out, his pulse racing so fast it made it speaking difficult. ‘Since my return—’
He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before she wrapped both arms around his neck and brought his face down to hers.
She kissed him as though nothing mattered more.
Her hands cupped the back of his neck and his initial shock subsided in a burst of fireworks as her fingers slid beneath his collar to stroke the sensitive skin of his nape, his own hands flying up to take possession of her as she leaned against his chest.
No thoughts were necessary. He didn’t need to think while he held her, revelling in the warmth of her body and hidden curves rediscovered by his questing palms. She felt just as she had the last day she’d been in his arms and he tightened his grip so this time she wouldn’t slip away.
He could have stood there for ever, kissing her until she saw stars; a constellation had certainly spread out behind his closed eyelids as her mouth moved over his, and if he hadn’t heard a faint sound from somewhere behind them he wasn’t sure he would have been able to stop.
They had waited so long and it was a wrench to have to make himself draw back, listening intently to what had suddenly become an extremely unwelcome noise.
‘Wait. I think someone’s coming.’
Jane blinked up at him, her eyes unfocused and her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. Her lips were rosier than usual and so soft-looking he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from claiming them again, although a second later they parted in dismay.
‘I don’t want to be seen like this. Where’s my bonnet?’
She stumbled back, her obvious panic rising as she cast about. Her bonnet must have dropped from her hand when she’d kissed him and Duncan urgently scanned the melting snow around them, his concern growing as the sound of chatter and crunching boots came closer.
‘Over there. It must have rolled…’
Jane scrambled for the black shape caught in a nearby tree’s roots, but she didn’t get there in time.
Two women appeared from around the other side of the shrub, both starting when they realised they weren’t alone.
‘Oh, Lieutenant Fitzjames. You gave us a fright!’
They smiled at him, although he saw the shape of their lips stiffen when they caught sight of Jane.
She’d managed to pull her bonnet on but the veil was snagged awkwardly on the brim, leaving her face exposed, and he felt a stab of horror as he watched their eyes fix immovably on her damaged left cheek.
Both women stared as though they had never seen anything more fascinating than Jane’s rapidly reddening face. She stared back, although stricken rather than intrigued, and Duncan felt something inside him twist.
He stepped forward, deliberately blocking her from their line of sight. What he wanted to do was demand they remember their manners, but he knew Jane wouldn’t appreciate an even more unpleasant scene.
‘My apologies for startling you.’ His voice was clipped but he couldn’t seem to summon much more than the barest civility.
He could feel her dismay as she stood behind him, all delight and wonder drained away, and he could have cursed the two interlopers for destroying what should have been a moment to cherish.
‘Merry Christmas, ladies. Don’t let me delay your walk.’ He forced what he imagined was probably a wintry smile. It was the best he could do, however, and he was glad it had the desired effect when the women began to flutter away.
‘Merry Christmas, Lieutenant… And to you too, ma’am.’
He thought he sensed Jane give a weak nod, although he didn’t turn to check.
He wanted to be sure they were alone before he encouraged her to take comfort in his arms, soothing the sting of the women’s hurtful ignorance with all the sweet words she deserved, and he watched with narrowed eyes as they walked away.
The wind had died down. The branches no longer scraped and creaked above their heads, which had the unfortunate effect of making it possible for both Jane and Duncan to hear every word the two ladies said as they retreated.
‘That was Jane Stockwell! I don’t recall the last time I saw her face. Did you see those scars?’
‘That’s why she always wears the veil. She was pretty before the accident, but now, poor thing…’
‘Perhaps we shouldn’t feel too sorry for her. That was Lieutenant Fitzjames she was with. He can’t like her, though, surely?’
There was a faint laugh, a note Duncan only just caught before its maker disappeared around a frostbitten tree.
‘Oh, I doubt it. A man that handsome wouldn’t settle for her when he could have a wife who was more of a credit to him.
I know her great-aunt and his mother were friends, so most likely they’re just acquaintances—what chance is there that so mismatched a pair could ever be anything else? ’