Chapter Eighteen
James
What in the name of God was he doing? He hadn’t meant to touch her like that. Not for so long. Not with such obvious affection. Not like she was his.
James sat in the chair before his bedroom hearth, staring at the small, flickering fire. His hands still felt the warmth of her fingers pressed between them. He’d kissed her knuckles. And then walked away like some kind of saint when every fiber of his being had screamed at him to pull her closer.
The look in her eyes when he’d stepped back—hurt, confusion, want—was burned into his memory. Christ, he wanted her. Had wanted to kiss her properly, to show her exactly how he felt about Julian Fane’s threats, to promise her with his body what his words couldn’t express.
Instead, he’d been noble. Honorable. It felt like hell.
The door creaked open. Digby stepped inside, impeccably dressed despite the hour.
“Shall I draw your bath, my lord?”
“No.” James reached for the brandy on the side table and poured a generous measure. “Just leave me to my misery.”
Digby moved to stoke the fire, the familiar scrape of iron against stone filling the silence. “Might I venture that the evening didn’t go as planned?”
James let out a harsh laugh. “I had the woman I’m half-mad for in my arms, and I walked away.”
“Ah.” Digby arranged tomorrow’s clothes with quiet precision. “And you regret the walking away?”
“I regret everything. Walking away, not walking away sooner, letting myself care for her in the first place.” James took a burning sip of brandy. “She deserves better than a man who wakes screaming from nightmares.”
“And yet she chooses to sit beside you every evening. To trust you with her sister’s future. To confide her darkest fears.”
“Because she doesn’t know what I really am.”
Digby paused in his work. “What are you, my lord?”
The question caught James off guard. “A man with blood on his hands. A man who’s seen too much darkness.”
“I see a man who’s clawed his way out of ruin with nothing but grit and honor. A man who remembers every name in the village and would throw himself in front of a carriage to save a stranger.” Digby’s voice was gentle but firm. “That’s what Mrs. Fairfax sees too.”
James stared into the fire. “What if I break her? She’s been through hell already.”
“What if you heal each other?” Digby stepped forward, his expression unusually serious. “Whom we love is not really in our control, my lord. But what might truly hurt her is words that are never spoken, feelings never expressed. Love that is never given a chance to bloom.”
“You sound like you speak from experience.”
A shadow crossed Digby’s face. “I let someone special marry another because I was too afraid to show her who I really was. Love has no use for cowards, my lord. None at all.”
The admission hung in the air between them. James studied his valet with new understanding.
“She said she’d still want me tomorrow,” James said quietly.
“Then perhaps you should believe her.”
James nodded slowly, feeling something settle in his chest. Tomorrow he would deal with Julian Fane. And tomorrow he would stop running from what he felt for Georgiana.
“Thank you, Digby.”
“It is my honor to serve, my lord. In all things.”
As Digby quietly left the room, James remained by the fire, planning. Julian Fane had made his first mistake by showing himself today. James would make sure it was his last.
*
The next morning, James rose to a note from his brother, informing him that he would be calling upon him later that morning. He had arrived in Town two days prior and was looking forward to seeing him.
The sisters had all gone out to look at the shops and buy a few last-minute items for the ball they were to attend that evening and Lavinia had accepted a luncheon invitation, leaving him alone to await Sebastian’s visit.
It was late morning by the time he arrived, announced by Mr. Isherwood.
James rose as he entered, delighted to see him. He embraced his brother warmly.
“It’s good to see you,” James said. “I’ll ring for tea. How is Rose?”
“She sends her warmest regards and deep apologies that she couldn’t come herself,” Sebastian said, settling into a chair near the fire.
“She’s keeping to her chambers these days, but she insisted I bring you this.
” He handed James a small wrapped package.
“And she made me promise to tell her everything about Mrs. Fairfax and her sister.”
James smiled as he rang for tea. “Rose is always curious about people.”
“Especially when it concerns her brother-in-law’s romantic entanglements.”
He shot his brother a look. “Entanglement might be a strong statement.”
“Whatever you say, little brother.” Sebastian glanced around the townhome’s modest but elegant drawing room. “This isn’t bad, considering your last-minute decision to attend the Season.”
“It’ll do for a few months,” James said. “I’d have liked it to be finer for Cecily’s sake, but it was the best we could do on short notice.”
A maid arrived with tea, giving James a moment to think of how exactly to describe the last few months.
After the maid left, James began to tell his brother about Mrs. Fairfax, their deep friendship, her financial difficulties, and her desire to make her late husband’s business a success so that Cecily might have a Season and marry well.
“I felt compelled to help,” he said. “Given our past, I have a soft spot for those needing a second chance.”
“It’s wonderful,” Sebastian said. “You’ll change her life. All of their lives.”
“I hope so.”
“And what of Mrs. Fairfax herself?” Sebastian peered at him with eyes that knew every inch of his brother. They had no secrets. They’d clung to each other and Sophia when they’d been sent to live with the Langstons. It was no use trying to avoid the topic.
“I find myself in the unenviable position of harboring romantic feelings for her.”
“I suspected as much. Why is that unenviable?” Sebastian leaned back in his chair. “Rose and I can attest that friendship is the foundation of every good marriage.”
James ran a hand through his hair. “Because she’s been through enough without adding my complications to her life.”
“I disagree,” Sebastian said firmly. “And so would Rose, if she were here. I suppose you believe you’re not good enough for her.”
James nodded, a lump rising in his throat. His brother knew him too well. “Her first marriage was loveless—romantically speaking, anyway. She deserves so much more than a man with my demons.”
“We’ve heard rumors about Mr. Fairfax,” Sebastian said carefully.
“How?”
“Rose’s lady’s maid, Prudence. She knows everything about everyone, and Rose insisted I ask about the family’s… circumstances.”
James spoke quietly as he told his brother what he knew of Robert’s situation, then his voice hardened as he described Julian Fane.
“The blackguard was here when we arrived yesterday. He’s been stalking her for over a year—writing letters, somehow always knowing where she is.
He cornered her once, tried to force himself on her. ”
Sebastian’s expression darkened. “That’s more than troubling. What are you doing about it?”
“I told her I’d handle it, but I need help. He’ll be at tonight’s ball, probably every social event this Season. I can’t be with her every moment.”
“You won’t have to be alone in this,” Sebastian said. “I’ll help keep watch. We’ll arrange for others we trust to do the same.”
“Rose will be furious she’s missing all the excitement,” Sebastian continued with a slight smile. “She’s already declared that Mrs. Fairfax is family, by the way. I’m to tell you that you’re a fool if you don’t pursue her properly.”
James felt heat creep up his neck. “Rose said that? How did she know?”
“In far more colorful language, actually. She also said, and I quote, ‘Tell James that any woman willing to restore Ashford Manor clearly has excellent judgment and the patience of a saint—exactly what he needs.’ As far as how she knew? You did speak of her quite fondly and very often in your letters over the last few months.”
Despite everything, James found himself smiling. “Yes, perhaps I was a bit effusive.”
“Speaking of tonight, are you prepared for the ball?”
“My new valet, Digby, has been drilling me relentlessly. He even hired a dancing master—a rather horrible little Frenchman who beat me into submission. Georgie helped by partnering with me for practice.”
Sebastian’s eyebrows rose. “You call her Georgie?”
“It suits her,” James said defensively.
“I’m sure it does.” Sebastian’s knowing smile was infuriating.
Before James could respond, the front door opened down the hall. A flurry of voices followed—Cecily’s bright with excitement, Georgiana’s lower and more measured, the swish of packages and the clink of hatboxes.
Their footsteps approached and then Georgiana entered first, cheeks pink from the cold, arms laden with parcels. She paused mid-step when she saw Sebastian. “Oh! I didn’t realize we had company.”
James stood, far too quickly. “We do.”
She wore a deep violet pelisse trimmed in black, the fur collar brushing against the soft skin of her neck. Her hair was slightly windblown, her lips still parted in surprise. His stomach fluttered. After last night’s restraint, seeing her again felt like a physical blow.
Cecily stepped in behind her, carrying an enormous hatbox, beaming with delight. “The modiste said I have excellent shoulders,” she announced to the room, before realizing a stranger was present. She covered her mouth, flushing. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we had company.”
James introduced the women to his brother.
Georgiana offered a graceful curtsy. “I’ve heard so much about you, Lord Ashford.”
“And I you, Mrs. Fairfax.” He turned to Cecily. “And you as well, Miss Linley.”
Cecily curtsied, smiling widely. “Your brother has saved us. We are so grateful.”
“From what I hear, you and your sister do very well taking care of yourselves,” Sebastian said. “But thank you.”
“I am sorry Lady Ashford couldn’t join you,” Georgiana said.
“She sends her regrets and this.” Sebastian gestured to the wrapped package. “She’s eager to meet you when she’s able, but for now she’s keeping to her chambers.”
Understanding flickered in Georgiana’s eyes, and she nodded with a gentle smile. “Please give her my regards.”
James watched the exchange, noting how naturally Georgiana handled the delicate situation, how Sebastian’s eyes lit up with immediate approval. His brother was studying them both with barely concealed amusement.
“We’re grateful to you for giving Ashford Manor life again,” Sebastian said. “I cannot express adequately how much it means to our family.”
“It has been my pleasure,” Georgiana said. “In fact, the project has been a great gift in more ways than one. Your family home is extraordinary.”
“We should let you visit,” Cecily said, still clutching her hatbox. “We have much to prepare for tonight’s ball. I am nervous as a cat facing a den of wolves.”
“You will do splendidly,” Sebastian said. “I look forward to seeing you both there.”
After the sisters had excused themselves and their footsteps faded up the stairs, Sebastian turned to James with obvious amusement.
“Well, this explains why you were so eager to sponsor a Season.”
“It’s not—” James began.
“Of course it’s not,” Sebastian said mildly, though his expression suggested he believed otherwise entirely. “And I’m sure calling her ‘Georgie’ is perfectly innocent as well.”
James ran a hand through his hair, heat creeping up his neck. “You are a terrible brother.”
“And you are clearly smitten,” Sebastian replied cheerfully. “Rose is going to be absolutely delighted when I tell her.”
James looked away, knowing any protest would only make things worse.
He was well and truly doomed—and his brother was enjoying every minute of it.