Chapter 8

8

Richard watchedJane’s distress grow with every step, her eyebrows drawn together over her spectacles, lips in a thin line, cheeks as pale as the lace on her bonnet. Hercules trotted loyally next to Jane, looking up at his mistress every few seconds as if feeling her unhappiness.

The countess, Lady Isabella, and Grandmama walked and talked ten feet ahead of them. He hated all those questions from Lady Whitemouth. She’d always liked to put her nose in everyone else’s business. He remembered what trouble she’d caused Sebastian, the Duke of Loxchester, who was Preston’s best friend, and his wife, Emma, when she had informed the gossip papers that Emma was a farmer’s daughter.

Richard was sure it was only a matter of time before the countess would tell all her acquaintances in the ton about his engagement. That would make their act more believable. He just wished she wouldn’t have made the connection with Blackmore. Now the gossip would be all about the criminal’s sister Richard was engaged to. He was not afraid for himself, but he was worried for Jane.

He didn’t like the haunted, almost beaten look on her face. She might have been a bit sanctimonious when they met, but she was also confident and brave. He didn’t want her to take the countess’s snarky remarks to heart or to face further humiliation that she didn’t deserve.

“Are you all right, Miss Grant?” he asked.

Jane’s eyelashes fluttered, and for the first time he saw her eyes fill with tears. She briefly looked down at the gravel path disappearing under the hem of her skirt. Then she met his gaze without a trace of vulnerability.

“I am,” she said firmly. “Do not fuss over me, my lord. Or are you going to make some cruel jest?”

Was she getting angry at him? Why the flaring nostrils, the color rushing to her cheeks?

“If you want to fit in—” he said.

“I need to dress to impress. As you already said.”

“Miss Grant—”

“Do you know I already tried?” she demanded.

He frowned. “I’m sure you did. You were raised in Mayfair in your papa’s home.”

“Papa died so unexpectedly,” she said, her voice trembling, making Richard’s chest constrict. “I was just sixteen. I lost my only parent.”

Richard nodded sharply, the loss of his parents as vivid in front of his eyes as it had been six years ago. The memory of his lost brother stabbed him like knife under a rib. He could almost hear the echo of his brother’s voice calling out to him over the din of Portside’s bustling crowds on those Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays they used to spar together.

Richard shook his head, trying to clear it of the past. His eyes were misty with tears.

The heavy weight of Spencer’s absence had settled deep inside him—a constant ache that would never go away.

“I am sorry, Miss Grant,” he said, his voice raspy. “I know that loss. No young lady should have to go through that. That must have been very hard for you.”

Their eyes locked, surprise in hers, and he found himself quite unable to look away. He was transfixed, as if his feet had suddenly grown roots into the ground. The world seemed to drift away—the robins’ chirping silenced, far-off barks of dogs quieted, and the clopping of horses’ hooves no longer disturbed the air.

“Thank you, Lord Richard,” she said without looking away. “It wasn’t just that loss, though. When the house I grew up in was forfeited to the Crown, along with my father’s other properties, I lost my home. I lost the only world I knew. I also lost my first Season. My gown was ready, the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Papa was supposed to take me to my first Almack’s ball.”

Jane reached out to the row of bushes they were passing by and mindlessly brushed her gloved hand along the edges of the green leaves.

“Thorne said he’d take me to Almack’s the next year, when the mourning period would be over. He was determined to return me to the society where I belonged, where I was always supposed to be. And the key to that was finding me a husband.”

Richard nodded. “Quite.”

“After a year in Whitechapel, I felt lonely. None of my previous friends or acquaintances wished to continue their association with me. I wasn’t yet out, and I couldn’t do much because of mourning. The only people I knew were my brother and his men.”

She looked down at Hercules and patted him on the head. “That was when Thorne gave me this little friend.”

She sighed and looked into the distance. “For a year, I had been dreaming of my first ball, thinking after the mourning period this would be the night I would return to where I belonged.” She chuckled bitterly. “I remember it so vividly. My heart thumped wildly, I was dressed in that beautiful gown, Ruby had done the best hairstyle she could. Thorne and I climbed out of the carriage in front of the Assembly Rooms at King Street. The voucher was in Thorne’s hand. As we greeted Lady Jersey, one of the hostesses, she surveyed us with a critical eye—her gaze lingered on me for a brief moment with approval. Then she heard Thorne’s name, and her face became so cold. She said there was a mistake and unfortunately there was no room available for me. She didn’t wait for our reply. She simply turned her back to us and left.”

Richard’s jaw tightened as he remembered the snooty reputation of Lady Jersey, Countess Lieven, and Lady Castlereagh, who were known to reject even dukes if their attire did not adhere to the strict dress code at Almack’s.

“I was dismissed so easily,” said Jane. “Rejected with a single glance. So why would I want to fit into a society that considers me unworthy? That is what you fail to understand. The children I teach are hungry and in need, and instead of helping, those in the ton are wearing a new dress every day and doing other frivolous things. I will survive if they look at me like I’m the dirt on their shoes. What I can’t bear is that they have so much when others have so little. And it is not by their merit but only because of their birth. I do not want to be a part of that.”

Richard swallowed hard. Ashamed, he realized he hadn’t considered any of that. He supposed he was just as guilty as Lady Whitemouth and the rest of them.

But Miss Grant wasn’t finished. “I do not want anyone to look at me as that woman did because the only family I have left in this life, the only family that loves me, that took me in and fed me and kept me safe, is someone of whom polite society disapproves. Why should I try to fit into a world like that?”

Her indignation brought more color to her face and made her eyes blaze and sparkle. A few locks of pretty, dark hair had fallen free from under her bonnet and wavered in the wind. He swallowed hard. Despite her mousy clothes and the poorly fitting bonnet and the spectacles, she wasn’t a wallflower.

She was a woman who created her own destiny and helped others.

She was a lioness.

“Because your brother wants you to,” he said.

Her shoulders slumped. “I feel so out of place here. So wrong.”

He supposed even a lioness had a weak spot.

She took his breath away—again.

Richard had just opened his mouth to say that when Hercules gave a series of tremendous barks, tugging on his leash in the direction of a small pond under some willows. There was a bark from another dog in response. In a blink, Hercules jerked free and tore off through the green field towards the source of the sound, his leash snaking behind him.

“Hercules!” Jane cried and darted after him.

Richard cursed. “Miss Grant!” he cried as he ran after her, soft grass disappearing quickly under his shoes.

“Richard, where are you going?” he heard Grandmama calling.

“The dog!” he cried back.

His heart pounded in his chest as he pumped his legs and arms. Jane was slow to navigate the uneven terrain, her skirts acting as a sail, slowing her down. So Richard reached her side quickly, his longer strides outpacing hers.

“Stay here, Miss Grant. I’ll get him,” he cried before speeding up.

His legs easily ate up the distance. But Hercules was faster still and disappeared into a thicket of bushes near the pond. The other dog, a much larger mastiff, followed after. There was a moment of silence, then a series of playful yelps.

Richard’s heart pounded harder as he ran, fear gripping him. He reached the thicket and plunged in, calling Hercules’s name. There was a rustling, then out shot Hercules. Richard grabbed the leash as the dog tried to dart past. The mastiff emerged next, but at the sight of Richard, it paused, then turned tail and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Richard let out a long, relieved breath and gripped the leash tight, patting the warm head of the very happy dog, who, no doubt, was as lonely as his mistress had confessed to be and missed exercise.

“Good dog,” he said to Hercules. Then Jane’s words seemed to echo in his ears—the only family that loves me… Thorne gave me this little friend… “But do not do this again. Your mistress needs you. She can’t lose you.”

Behind him, he heard the swish of skirts and the frantic panting that told him Jane had disregarded his command and followed him. He turned, and Hercules darted towards her, whining happily.

“Oh, Hercules!” Jane rushed towards the dog, dropping to her knees to hug him close. “You naughty dog. You gave me such a fright!”

Richard watched the reunion from a few steps away, his breath slowly returning to normal. He admired her spirit and resilience, and the fierce love she had for her dog.

He passed her the leash, and their hands brushed. Her gaze locked with his, a million unspoken words swimming in those clear gray eyes.

Under the wall of drooping willow branches they stood together, panting hard, their chests heaving in unison. Hercules sat by Jane’s feet, watching her face with adoration, his tail wagging at a furious pace, seemingly unbothered by the dramatic events.

“Thank you,” Jane said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze filled with gratitude, and something else—a shared understanding that they were in this together. “Thank you, Lord Richard.”

The look in her eyes stilled his breath. Yes, this was a world that was far from perfect, filled with injustice and pretense. But at that moment, under the shelter of the tree with Jane so close, Richard couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

He couldn’t resist stepping closer to her and brushing his knuckles over her cheek. She stopped breathing. So did he. He couldn’t drag his gaze away from hers, warmly gray now, dark and glistening like thawing ice on a lake. The touch of her skin against his sent a hot longing through his body.

A gentleman didn’t touch a lady like that. But he liked it. He couldn’t drag his fingers away from her. As far as the whole world knew, she was his fiancée.

She swallowed as he came ever so slightly closer. He picked up a stray lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear.

“Does this feel right?” he asked. “Tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

“You know,” he said. “You are quite in danger here. I do have a bad reputation.”

Heavens, but how smooth her skin was, how warm and right under his touch. He took one more step closer and now was pressed right against her, the trunk of the willow tree behind her. She was smaller than him, looking up at him with her eyes so big and innocent and glistening.

“Have you been kissed before?” he asked.

That mouth of hers, round and pink, her lips looking so plush. Would they feel and taste as delicious as they looked?

Her lips parted slightly in a quick expression of surprise. “No.”

Of course she hadn’t. He liked the idea of her first kiss belonging to him. Of all her firsts being his.

“Never been kissed before?” he mused. “We’re pretending to be in love. For practice, you must know how it is to kiss, Jane.”

Jane…her name felt sweet and right on his tongue. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and her pupils dilated. She liked that, too.

She wanted him to kiss her.

He leaned down to her…

Only to find empty air.

She stepped to the side and out of his grasp.

“What are you doing, Lord Richard?” the vixen demanded angrily.

He blinked. “What did it look like I was doing?”

“We agreed—no touching, no kissing. No nothing.”

He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “We did. And yet, you let me touch you just now.”

“Well…” She cocked one eyebrow. “I shouldn’t have. For a moment, I forgot I was in the presence of a rake. Of course you wouldn’t care about my reputation, only about your own selfish pleasure.”

He slowly shook his head. “Jane…what can you know about pleasure?”

Her cheeks were set ablaze so quickly it was like watching fire engulf a piece of paper.

“Let us go, Hercules,” she said as she threw one last, furious glance at Richard.

As she turned around to walk away, he cried after her, “Do not forget you are invited for tea to meet my family.”

She gave a curt nod and, together with Hercules, disappeared through the bushes.

Richard leaned his arm against the tree and shook his head. How a little wallflower could make him feel so intoxicated, he didn’t know.

But he suddenly found himself not just wanting a kiss from her.

But wanting everything.