Chapter 11
Goodbyes, promises, and fateful meetings.
Repton, who had been busy packing up King’s wardrobe, cleared his throat, gaining his attention. “Must we really leave tomorrow, sir?”
King turned away from the window. It was dark, the last vestiges of light having slipped from the horizon and moonlight glinted on the sea.
He shivered, the memory of how damned cold that frigid water truly was coming back to him, making his bones ache and his guts clench as he remembered his desperation to live each time the sea dragged him under and he fought to regain the surface, to see Anne again.
She was something to live for, to strive for.
He’d had goals before, the desire to put food in his belly being one of the earliest he could remember.
But then there had been the desire to make something of himself, to have a fine house and fine clothes and spit in the eye of anyone who dared to look down upon him.
Then the desire to own things that many men could only dream of, art and jewels and books, the marks of a gentleman.
When he had bought those rubies from Mrs Fairway, he’d wanted them badly. When he’d purchased his house and filled it with expensive things, he’d been so proud he could have burst, yet none of it satisfied him. None of it filled the void.
He had never been a man who enjoyed introspection, but he knew enough to realise he had never belonged anywhere, to anyone.
No one had believed him worth the scraps from their table, and the motivation to show them they were wrong had fired him his entire life.
But the reverend was right. What did he care for their opinion now?
Was point was there in more money, more riches, when he looked around him and saw people starving, and everything he did to earn more money only made their lives worse?
Guilt might have come to him late in life, but it had come with a vengeance and a desire to be better. Yet he instinctively knew that his change of heart, his desire to help, still would not fill the emptiness inside him.
Anne would.
It had taken a few brief meetings, a few kisses, but he had recognised at once that Anne Adamson took away that feeling of lack, replacing the emptiness with a different kind of wanting, and a desire far fiercer than anything he had known before.
He still found it hard to put faith in her words, but she was a woman who knew her own mind, that much he believed, and she wanted him.
King was no foolish boy and knew when a woman desired him, but he had seen admiration in her eyes, and a desire to know him, the real man, not the one he showed the world.
That man changed with the circumstances and the people around him, but he had shown her himself, and she had told him she saw him, the good and the bad.
“Yes,” he said, forcing himself back to the here and now.
“Yes, we must. Honeywell has arranged for me to see Tommy’s grandfather after breakfast. He’ll take ten pounds to sign the boy over to me, the mercenary bastard.
The reverend has arranged the indenture papers be ready to sign, so then Tommy is in my employ.
We need to get him settled with Mrs Keller, who can mother the poor fellow for a bit and help him find his feet. ”
Repton nodded, but looked rather morose.
“Why so Friday faced? Do you like it here?” King asked, rather surprised, for Repton had only ever lived in London and had not wanted to spend too long here, only welcoming the trip for the opportunity to polish his role as valet.
“I do, actually,” Repton replied, sounding as astonished as King was.
“It’s a pleasant place. I never dreamed such a place could be real, truth be told.
Wherever you look is a pretty vista upon which to rest one's eyes, and it's quiet too, so a fellow can think. None of the noise and bustle of London, and so clean! The air is… sweet, somehow.”
“No soot,” King replied with a snort.
Repton pulled a face. “Aye, and no stench of rotting, festering, disease-ridden—”
King raised a hand, not wanting to consider the rookeries any more than Repton did. “We’ll be back soon enough.”
Repton dropped the shirt he’d been carefully folding in a heap on the floor. “We will?” he asked, his eyes wide with delight.
King nodded, wondering if now was the time to include Repton in his plans. The fellow had proven his loyalty too many times to doubt him, and it was his future too that King toyed with.
“We will,” King replied, watching Repton’s expression carefully. “And if things go as I pray they might, we’ll be here to stay.”
Anne paced up and down her office, which was no easy thing to do as there was barely space enough to turn around.
Yet she could not keep still, and did not want the breakfast guests nor Mrs Fairway to guess at the depths of her agitation.
King was leaving today and despite his words to her last night, words she still did not dare put any faith in, she feared she might never see him again.
A knock upon the door startled her so much she gave a little shriek of surprise, barely smothering it in time by clapping her hand to her mouth.
“For heaven’s sake, get a grip upon your wits, my girl,” she said under her breath, taking a moment to smooth her skirts and her hair before going to the door.
All her efforts at self-mastery were for naught, however.
King, lounging nonchalantly against the doorjamb, grinned at her, a wicked twinkle in his eyes that made her stomach pitch harder than the waves crashing upon the shore.
“Good morning, Mrs Adamson. I believe I must settle my account?”
Though it was all she could do not to blush and stammer like a schoolroom miss, such was her state of mind, Anne gave a regal nod and went to sit behind her desk.
“Here is your bill, Mr King,” she said, with all the outward calm she could muster.
To her mingled delight and consternation, King came in and closed the door, sitting down on the corner of her desk as he plucked the bill from her fingers.
“Tsk, tsk, so much?” he said with mock severity. “Daylight robbery, that’s what it is.”
“I hope you are not going to cause trouble, Mr King,” Anne said, torn between laughter and indignation, for though he was teasing, she knew very well she offered good value for money, and she took pride in that.
“I’m afraid…yes, I am very much afraid, that I am,” he murmured, pulling her to her feet and then into his arms with very little effort.
Anne gasped at the swiftness of it, at the delight of feeling his lips upon hers, at the reassuring solidity of his body against hers.
How wonderful it was to be held so, to feel for once that she was not alone, fighting life and all it threw at her all by herself.
Yet, tempting as it was, she had been alone for a long time and her independence was hard won, and so she pushed away from him, breaking the kiss.
“I know,” he said, his expression grave, though his eyes were warm and full of the promise of more devilry if she allowed it. “I know I’ve got a good deal to prove, your trust to earn, before I can ask you anything of importance, but I shall do it.”
Anne gazed up at him, helpless to fight the spell he cast over her, wanting to believe it with all her heart.
“Do you doubt me?” he asked, a wry smile curving his lips. “No,” he added quickly, pressing his finger to her mouth before she could form an answer.
Anne raised her eyebrows, trying not to laugh for she had certainly intended to inform him of her doubts.
“Don’t say it. I know you do, it’s right that you do. Still, I’d rather not hear you say so for I shall hear your words repeating in my head every moment of the day. But I shall prove myself to you, Mrs Adamson, just you see if I don’t.”
With that, he placed a stack of coins on her desk to cover his bill and stood, walking to the door.
“How long—” she burst out, though she had promised herself faithfully that she would not ask him.
He turned and smiled at her. “If all goes well, I’ll be back in a few days, and then I’ll have some important plans to discuss with you.
Business plans, as well as personal ones,” he added with a sly wink, knowing this would intrigue her and drive her distracted until he returned and explained himself. But then he was gone.
Anne laughed, and then cursed him, and then wrapped her arms about herself and gave a little squeal of delight.
He was coming back, for her, and with plans for their future, plans he wished to discuss with her!
Jasper King considered her his equal; a partner, not a possession, not something to be owned and kept safe in a gilded cage, and he wanted her, just as she was.
It seemed like a gift, a miracle of sorts, and she wondered if she was being a fool.
The cynical voice in her head told her to consider any business proposition he presented very carefully, to ensure she did not give away her power, and yet her heart assured her that was not the man he was.
He did not want to trick her, to take something from her, he wanted to build something with her, and she did not care that there were those in the town who would think she had lost her mind.
She did not give a snap of her fingers for the old tabbies who would lick their lips and relish the gossip about the proud Mrs Adamson lowering herself to marry the wicked bastard who’d gone to London and become a crime lord.
Because that was what he intended. He meant to court her, and marry her, in full view of the world, and as God was her witness, Anne intended to let him.
The Vicarage, Little Valentine, East Sussex, 7th October 1815.
“Papa!” Isabelle Honeywell called as she hurried into the vicarage. “Papa!”
“Here, child,” her father replied, his voice guiding her into his study. “Where’s the fire, Izzy, my dear? What a commotion you make!”
Izzy ran in, tugging at the ribbons of her bonnet and throwing it carelessly down his desk. “He still has not come home!”