Chapter 13 #2
He climbed in and sat beside her, his shoulder bumping hers and then his arm grazing her leg as he fished around at his feet and produced a crumpled rug for her knees with the worrying statement that it was probably clean.
His closeness unlocked the memory she was sure she’d suppressed—suppressed with iron chains and forcibly drowned in a very deep lake—of Jack in her new studio, in his shirt sleeves with his arms around her, the heat and muscle of him on her bare arms through his thin linen.
“There. That’s where you ought to be.” She’d never had more sympathy for ants than then, sympathy for all those fragile things tramped to death by ignorant, oafish feet.
They had no idea, all those people, of what they walked all over.
He’d laughed as she’d pulled away, and though her cheeks were already hot, the glancing touch of his breath had been warmer.
Now he set the horses into a smart trot that seemed far too fast for the cobbled street.
Lucy clenched her teeth, remembering the terror of past drives.
Jack’s thoughts seemed to be on a similar track, for he said happily, “Remember how I used to drive you into the village? Nell put me in mind of it this morning. This is just like old times.”
“Do you mean to overturn me in a hedge, then?”
He laughed. “That was once! And it was a nice, soft, springy hedge.”
“It didn’t feel particularly soft. And neither will these cobbles.”
“Good Lord, Min, don’t fuss. I know what I’m doing. You’re perfectly safe with me.”
She wasn’t. She wasn’t at all.
“Where did you walk?” he asked.
“St James’s.”
“Then we’ll go to Hyde Park now and have a proper run,” he decided, leaving the question of her heart’s desire behind them in the curricle’s dust.
They spanked along at a clipping pace, Lucy very glad for the high springs, otherwise she would’ve been shaken to pieces.
As it was, only her nerves ended up shaken, her heart near-stopping every time they shot past a slower-moving vehicle with barely a finger’s width to spare.
Either Jack was incredibly lucky or he really had learnt to drive.
“So,” he said conversationally, despite the fact he clearly needed to be concentrating on avoiding that laden builder’s wagon, “how are you finding London? Getting to grips with it yet?”
“I… I do enjoy it.” She tried not to close her eyes as they dashed past, the wagon driver glaring.
She caught the scent of the sawn wood he was carrying, and then it was already far behind.
“It is very interesting. Though…strange, sometimes, to be so frequently in such varied company.” She thought over the last few hours of her day.
“I’ll never remember half the names of the people I meet. ”
Jack chuckled. “Don’t worry about that. Miss Sedgewick knows them all. She’ll look after you. She is, isn’t she?” He took his attention briefly from the road to scan her face. “Looking after you?”
“Oh yes! She is so kind. I’m sure I’m such a burden, but nothing is ever too much trouble.”
“Good. I’m glad. And her brother… No. Never mind. But I did want to know if you’ve heard from your aunt since you arrived?”
“Yes. I wrote to her when I first reached your sister’s house. And I have had a reply since.”
“And she’s well?”
“As much as she ever is. Mostly she was complaining at my absence and having no one to look after her.” Lucy laughed.
“But I got her a little lap dog before I left. My aunt needs to have a creature in the house to grumble about, you see. I thought a small, yappy, decidedly stupid creature would do the trick. I believe I was right. She spent a page and a half complaining about it. So, as you see, she is quite content.”
Jack had listened to this with a growing smile. Now he turned to her with an appreciative glint in his eyes. “This is surprisingly devious of you, Min. I’m impressed.”
“Keep your eyes on the road!”
“There’s acres of room. And we’re barely crawling.” But he slowed his pace, only to yet again study her. A warm and wicked smile crooked his mouth. “Just how yappy is this dog?”
“Incessant. And shrill.”
The warm, wicked smile deepened. “That’s my girl.”
She closed her eyes, which she was allowed to do because they were shooting through the gap between two lumbering stagecoaches. The buttery soft leather of the seat was perfect to hold onto. She could get a good, tight grip.
“I suppose,” she said, now looking determinedly ahead, “growing up alongside the most provoking boy imaginable was an education of sorts.”
He laughed. “It’s not possible that any of my horribleness rubbed off on you, Min. You’re incapable of being horrible in any way. But I’m glad you made a stand. I’ve hated the thought of you being miserable and mistreated all this time.”
“I’m not as helpless as you think me. I would not have survived the last seven years if I’d not learnt how to handle my aunt.”
“So I see! Then maybe…” He glanced at her. “Are you fond of her?”
“Possibly not as much as I should be, given all she has done for me.”
“Done?” He reined in sharply as their road crossed another, a phaeton racing past. The lady inside waved a hand to Jack, which he returned with an absent nod.
“Her, rattling around in that enormous house, with more money than she could spend if she lived for a thousand years, and never giving you a ball or even a come out! I’d say taking in one very small person and giving her food to eat is little enough.
And I suppose she made you earn every crust, had you running errands and fetching her medicines and threading her needle, and all that old woman’s work? ”
Other vehicles had been crossing their path all this time. Now Jack took his chance and urged his horses through a small gap in the traffic. They made it with no more than an annoyed shout in their direction and continued on down the road.
“Yes,” admitted Lucy.
“And does she appreciate it? Is she fond of you, Min?”
She couldn’t pretend she’d never asked herself these questions before. But admitting the answers aloud was still difficult. Especially when Jack shot her those pitying glances. She was glad they were driving and his attention distracted.
“I… I do not know. I’m not sure she is capable of true fondness. Her only concern is herself. But she is…used to me, I suppose. And I am useful. She didn’t want me to come when I got Nell’s letter.”
“I bet not.” He shook his head. Her stupid heart ached. Pity was always so…so painful. “What a life you’ve led.” If they’d been alone, in a quiet room, in her studio, he might have taken her hand again, might have put a hand on her cheek, might—
They were hailed by a man walking along the pavement. Jack pulled the horses to a stop and nodded at the young, fashionable gentleman. Lucy recognised him immediately.
“Warde,” Jack greeted him. “How goes it?”
“Worse and worse,” the man said with an amused flick of his cane in their direction, “now that I see you escaping with the fair Miss Fanshaw in your demon’s sleigh.
Caroline Sedgewick firmly told me this morning that only those fluent in paint and brush were to be permitted attendance.
Don’t you remember, Miss Fanshaw? How despondent Lord Kiethly and I were when we heard! Our misery surely didn’t pass you by?”
Jack wrinkled his nose at this speech. Lucy wasn’t much more impressed by it, but politely said, “It is nice to see you again, Mr Warde.”
“But explain to us poor bewildered souls, Miss Fanshaw, how Lord Orton, who, I can assure you because I was there at the time, once referred to Somerset House as ‘that place with all the pictures’ conquers, where I myself fail?”
If she felt the over-familiar impertinence of this smiling speech, Jack also seemed to. His gloved fingers tightened irritably on the reins, and one of the horses threw up its head with a jingle of harness.
“Stop talking claptrap, Warde. I’ve known Miss Fanshaw since the day she was born.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling up at them, something sly in the corners of it. “It’s a brotherly advantage, I see. Then my ego is uninjured.” He held up a hand, stepping away from the curricle.
“It’s the advantage of long friendship, Warde,” Jack said, with none of his usual amiability. “Miss Fanshaw has my whole family’s friendship.” Lucy was sure Mr Warde heard the subtle warning—a smirk glanced across his face—but he made no reply, directing a smile at Lucy.
“Until tomorrow, Miss Fanshaw. I’ll see you at that place with all the pictures, where my ignorance will be best on display. You’ll take pity on me though, I’m sure. I depend entirely upon your feminine charity.”
Jack gave a scathing laugh and set the horses forward with barely a nod for his friend.
“They came to visit you this morning, did they? Warde and Kiethly?”
“To visit Miss Sedgewick, yes.”
“And you’re going to Somerset House with them tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Jack grunted, looking annoyed.
“What is the matter?”
But they were on one of the main thoroughfares by that point, and Jack was preoccupied with the heavier traffic, or at least he pretended to be.
Having seen him drive this far, however, she doubted even this was much test of his skill.
And once they emerged on the quieter road toward the park, it became clear he’d had some leisure to look around him.
From the appalled look he now gave her, he’d clearly noted the people they passed.
“Just how many people has Miss Sedgewick introduced you to, Min? Half the men in London are waving at you.”
She was scarcely less appalled. She felt luminous as a mushroom, as exposed as some poor wretch in a tumbril, dragged through the streets for all to judge.
But she gripped the upholstered seat at her sides, refusing to show it.
“We met quite a number of her acquaintances in the park. But perhaps they are waving at you. You are popular, are you not?”
“Oh, hugely,” he said with the lift of a brow. “But it’s usually the other half of the human race trying to catch my eye.”
Lucy blushed because, as aware as she’d been of the many gentleman nodding and smiling as she passed, she’d also been aware of the women in their company, and the way many of them cast lingering looks at Jack.
The attention they attracted continued until they were beyond the fashionable streets, Jack settling into silent irritation, his scowl deepening at every new person who looked their way.
When they turned through the gates into Hyde Park and yet another man smiled, heading to approach their vehicle, Jack swore under his breath and set the horses at a furious pace until they were alone on the distant side of the vast space.
“It’s worse than I thought, Min,” he said, finally pulling the horses to a walk. “There’s only one thing for it. We’ll have to get married.”