Chapter Nineteen
Samuel stalked through Milton House, aggravated and exhausted.
He had been seeing visitor after visitor all day, some friends and colleagues who came to offer their support no matter what, others business partners and merchants, wary of him and seeking reassurance to continue to do business with him.
He had been served papers by a solicitor and had his own solicitor immediately respond, daring the barrister to find a single witness to corroborate Mr. Liddell’s story.
The scene that took place at Milton House was explosive enough to reach the papers.
Mr. Liddell had filed a complaint against Mr. Milton and swore to have at least a dozen witnesses to the attack he suffered at the hands of the Scottish millionaire.
But what the politician hadn’t anticipated was the loyalty of Mr. Milton’s employees.
According to each and every one of them, Mr. Milton had graciously said his goodbyes to Mr. Liddell and returned to his office without a single hand being placed on the guest.
Still, many in Glasgow and the surrounding area made it a point to either stop by to express their support or wrote letters to him, commending him for standing up to the “English prig,” despite not knowing exactly what happened.
But through it all, he had not heard a single word from Jane.
It was his fault, of course. He had behaved exactly like the sort of person he swore he never would be, and now he was in a hell of his own making, one he rightly deserved. He had taken advantage of Jane, and he would carry it with him his whole life.
Miserable and angry, he stalked out of his office and down the hallway toward the staircase. He was nearly halfway down it before he lifted his head to see Jane herself, stopped at the bottom of the staircase, her one slippered foot on the first step. She was staring at him as he froze, mid-step.
Although there had been at least a dozen people moving back and forth throughout the house, everyone seemed to flee and disappear at the sight of Samuel and Jane.
He took a single step down.
“What are you doing here?”
“I… I came to, to speak with you.”
“About what?”
She glanced around but saw no one. But she did seem to note the boxes and crates and she frowned.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“No. My parents are. They’re retiring to Ballybrook.”
“Oh, yes,” Jane said, taking a step up. “I remember your mother saying she wished to do so sooner than later.”
“Yes,” he said, taking another step down. “Jane. What are you doing here?”
Her throat worked up and down to swallow while she started to blink rapidly.
“I wish to be honest with you, and perhaps I can ask that you don’t speak until I’ve said my peace. Can I ask that of you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good,” she said with a nod. She breathed in and out several times.
Samuel was just about to ask if she’d like a cup of water or to sit somewhere, but then she spoke.
“I was taught from an early age not to trust men. And, I haven’t my entire life.
” Samuel nodded, knowing he was likely the latest added to that list. “Until I met you.”
That caught him off guard. He took another step down.
“Me?”
“Yes. You were never conniving or controlling in your actions or in the way you spoke. You seemed only to care about others, how your decisions might help the most number of people. I didn’t believe it at first, or rather, I didn’t understand it.
“But then I realized, just after you jumped into the Clyde to save that boy, that all of your decisions rarely had anything to do with you. And when I called you honorable, you recoiled from it. You don’t like the fact that the world is cruel and unfair, and so you try to change it.”
“A Sisyphean act, I’m afraid.”
She took another step up, so now only five steps separated them.
“A noble act,” she said with a small smile. “But I wanted to continue with my view of the world. I didn’t want to trust you or believe that you were so good.”
“I promise you, Jane, I’m not nearly as good as I should be,” he said, taking another step down.
“I think it’s your humility that amazes me the most.”
“Jane, stop.”
“I will not. I cannot,” she said, taking another step up. “I have never been the brave sort, but I think if I don’t say this now, I might not ever get the chance to again, and I know I will live to regret it.”
Samuel took a step down, now only one tread away from her. She gazed at him, her gray eyes practically glowing. He reached out to touch her face, and she pressed her face into his palm as they both took the last step toward one another.
“Jane, I—”
“I love you, Samuel,” she said as his arms wrapped around her. “And I know this isn’t the time or the place, and I can’t quite explain all of it, but I have to tell you. I love you. And even though I’m terrified to admit this, I’m even more afraid of the life I would lead otherwise.”
Samuel’s fingers reached into her hair.
“I love you, Jane,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “I just didn’t want you to feel pushed into anything. I couldn’t ask you to stay.”
“I know that,” she said as she watched him. “But maybe I could ask to stay.”
The corner of Samuel’s eyes crinkled as he bent his head down.
“Forever, Jane. Stay here, forever,” he whispered against her lips as he kissed her.
And even though the house was filled with clerks and servants who could easily spot the situation, not a single word was spoken about that day to anyone, except for Andrews, Lady Belle’s manservant, who had happened to escort Jane back to Milton House.
He watched the entire scene unfold from the doorway but promptly turned around the moment Jane and Samuel kissed.
Back into the carriage, through the rain, he traveled home to Lady Belle’s rowhouse in Cresent Circle.
He exited the vehicle once it came to a complete stop, entered the house at his usual pace, not concerned with the rain.
Taking off his overcoat, he hung it up on the coat rack that sat behind the door.
Fixing his suit, he entered the library to find Belle sitting behind her desk, writing. She looked up at him as he entered.
“Well?” she asked instantly. “How did it go?”
“All’s well,” Andrews said, coming to stand in his usual spot, behind her.
But not before he caught the sneaky little smirk his mistress always flashed when one of her plans succeeded.
“Ah! I knew it. Well, that certainly was one of the easier ones, wouldn’t you say?” Andrews did not reply, but it didn’t matter. Belle was talking to herself. “Now her sister, she’s a different sort entirely… But I have someone in mind that just might be perfect…”
“I believe you do,” Andrews said, earning him a smile from Belle.
“Always, Andrews. Always.”