Chapter Eighteen

J ess sat in a chair and stared at her easel on the far side of the garden room. She couldn’t bring herself to go anywhere near it. What was the point? Her art had always brought her solace before, but now her heart was no longer in it. Just the thought of lifting her brush took so much mental effort—energy she no longer had since Lucien Grenier invaded her life—that she couldn’t bring herself to even try.

The blasted devil didn’t even have the decency to leave her completely alone. Not him. He had to be a gentleman and not only reject her last night but then send her a gift this morning. The most thoughtful gift she could ever imagine receiving, too.

Her eyes drifted to the side table she used for storing her supplies and the bouquet that sat there. Not one of flowers—oh no! That would have been too ordinary, too expected. Too unlike him . Instead, Lucien had sent her a bouquet of brightly colored sketch pencils, all tied with a red ribbon in a crystal vase. The unsigned card with it read simply,

I cannot honestly say that I am sorry for what happened between us—only that I am sorry for how it ended.

Damn him! Damn him for being so thoughtful. Only Lucien would think to tie her art to her heart like that. Her eyes blurred with hot, stinging tears until the colors of the unusual bouquet melted together into a deformed rainbow.

And damn herself for falling in love with him.

After experiencing the gentleman, she wanted the rake back. At least he would know how to break her heart in such a way that it would have been cauterized thoroughly enough to never let her feel love again.

Oh, she had wanted to scratch his eyes out! But also throw herself into his arms to beg him to change his mind about making love to her. Every step from the grotto back to Auntie’s group of friends in the supper box had been sheer agony because she could feel him walking beside her in his misguided attempt to protect her. Protect her? She’d wanted to laugh. He’d already ripped out her heart. What more damage did he think could have been done to her while crossing the gardens?

She hadn’t expected to hear from him again. Hadn’t wanted to hear from him. She wanted to fade away into her own misery with a clean break from him. But she hadn’t even been allowed to do that. Instead, she was now more confused than ever over a man who claimed to want her even as he was pushing her away.

A sharp rap at the door caught her attention, and she blinked hard to clear away her tears as Simms appeared in the doorway. The dutiful butler looked apologetic for disturbing her, yet also oddly excited.

“Yes?” she asked. Remaining seated was rude, but she didn’t have the energy to bring herself to her feet. Perhaps his appearance had something to do with Aunt Matilda, who was spending the day shopping at Burlington Arcade. Jess hadn’t had the energy for that, either.

“You have a special arrival, miss,” he announced, keeping a smile in check. “From Ireland.”

That brought her to her feet, and her heart pounded back to life. Amanda must have answered her letters about Lucien! Finally, she would learn the truth about him and what happened that night between him and her sister. Despite everything, she still desperately needed to know.

“Thank you.” She came forward with her hand outstretched. “You can give it to me.”

With a gleam in the butler’s eyes, he stepped aside and announced as formally as a master of ceremonies at the grandest ball—“Miss Amanda St Clair!”

Jess’s heart lurched into her throat when her sister walked into the room. She was barely able to believe her eyes, which now stung and blurred for an all-new reason.

“Amanda!” She threw her arms around her sister and hugged her tightly against her. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Then Jess held her at arm’s length and dropped a critical glance over her, fearing the worst.

“Are you all right?” She wasn’t able to see any kind of large bulge beneath her sister’s layers of high-waist skirts and long travel coat, but then, she wouldn’t. The dress and coat were purposefully large, her skirts overfull, all to hide any glimpse of her belly. With concern, Jess lowered her voice so Simms couldn’t overhear. “Is the baby…?”

“I’m fine.” Amanda gave her a reassuring—if tired—smile. “We both are.”

“Thank God.” Her shoulders sagged as relief swept over her. Then she impulsively hugged her sister again and half-laughed into her ear. “I was worried that something had gone terribly wrong to bring you back home so soon.” So unexpectedly, without telling her and Aunt Matilda, too, and traveling alone in her condition. Jess didn’t know whether to kiss her for her being courageous or shake her for being foolish. “But why are you here?”

“Because something has gone terribly wrong.”

Jess stiffened in her sister’s arms, then slowly stepped back. From beneath the brim of her straw bonnet, Amanda’s face darkened into a drawn somberness that sent prickles of fresh worry spinning through Jess.

“What is it?” she whispered, afraid of the answer even as she asked the question.

“You.” Amanda’s lips pursed together. “Or rather— me .” She wrapped her arms around her middle as if attempting to protect her unborn child. Jess had never seen her sister look so small and vulnerable before. “That is…what I led you to believe about the Duke of Crewe.”

Jess’s mind reeled. Before she could think to put together a coherent question, Amanda stepped away and turned her smile onto Simms. She removed her bonnet and coat and handed them to the butler, who couldn’t hide his happiness that she had returned, even if he had no idea of the truth of her situation. They had kept the baby secret from everyone except Auntie and their cousins in Ireland, including their servants. If any of the staff suspected Amanda’s predicament, none of them dared gossip about it, especially Simms, who adored Amanda and would protect her however he could.

“I am exhausted from traveling,” she said, placing a beseeching hand on his arm. Amanda had always been the butler’s favorite of the two sisters and so was allowed liberties that Jess would never be granted. “Would you ask Cook to make up a little tray of refreshments for me and send it to my room? I’d also like to have water heated for a bath, if it’s not too much trouble. And could you please take my bags up to my room?”

“Of course, Miss,” Simms answered and turned smartly to leave. He would see to all of that, Jess knew.

Just as she knew her sister had made all those requests to give them time alone to talk in private.

As soon as the door closed after him, Amanda took Jess’s hands and led her to the settee. Concern panged in her chest as she settled onto the cushions next to her sister. Oh, this could not be good!

“What’s the matter?” Jess whispered. “Tell me.”

“I received your letters. You were very thoughtful to write to me.” Amanda kept her gaze firmly fixed on their joined hands on the cushion between them. “I don’t deserve a sister as wonderful and caring as you.”

Oddly, that compliment stung more than it flattered. “I only want—”

“Or one as lovingly misguided.”

That certainly stung. Jess tried to pull her hands away, but Amanda held firm.

“No—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be cross.” She gave an apologetic squeeze to Jess’s fingers. “It’s just—your letters when you—” She pulled in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders with resolve. “You need to leave Lucien Grenier alone. He didn’t do what I led you to believe.”

Her body flashed numb, and her lips parted, stunned, as she stared at Amanda.

Lucien had been telling the truth all along, which meant… “You lied to me,” Jess whispered, barely louder than a breath.

Guilt marred Amanda’s face. “I did, and I will never be able to forgive myself for losing your trust. Can you ever bring yourself to forgive me?”

“That depends.” When Amanda’s watery eyes lifted to meet hers, Jess demanded more than asked, “What really happened?”

Amanda pushed herself to her feet. In the month since she’d been away, her middle had grown bigger, and now Jess could see how it had begun to affect her movements. But of course it would. Before this was all over, everything about her life would change.

“I met a wonderful man,” Amanda confessed softly, “at the museum lecture about Lord Elgin’s marbles last winter. He was kind and intelligent in a quiet way that drew me to him. We spent the rest of the afternoon talking, and by the time I left, I knew…” A happy but troubled light brightened her eyes. “I was in love. So was he. We began to spend time together whenever we could, wherever we could…meetings in the park, at galleries and shops…” She paused, as if carefully selecting her words, “And then, one evening, when we had both been invited to the same party, we sneaked away into the garden, and we…”

Made love. Amanda didn’t have to finish the sentence. Jess heard it as surely as if her sister had shouted it into the wind.

Amanda put her hand on her belly and began to slowly pace. She stared at the rug, not lifting her gaze. “Two months later, when I’d again missed my courses, I knew…”

“In March?” Just in time for Lady Hawthorne’s ball. Jess’s skin grew cold as the icy truth about that night settled over her. She hadn’t seen at all what she’d thought.

Amanda confirmed that with a curt nod.

“So Lucien didn’t compromise you,” Jess whispered. Good Lord, he’d been telling her the truth this whole time, and she hadn’t believed him. “But I saw…”

“Exactly what I wanted you to see.” She stopped pacing and shook her head. “No—not exactly. You came looking for me too early, and Crewe had been too slow to accept what I was offering. When you found us, all that had happened was kissing.”

“Amanda,” Jess somehow managed to ask while also holding her breath, “what did you do?”

She boldly met Jess’s gaze, despite the softness of her confession. “Crewe didn’t try to seduce me. It was me. I was the one who led him beneath the bower, who lifted my own skirts. It had only been two months, and there was still time to…” Then her bravery faltered, and she looked out the window at the late afternoon. “He’s a rakehell, the kind of man who would never have passed up the opportunity to be intimate with a willing woman.”

Anger flared inside Jess, who rose to her feet to defend Lucien. “You wanted to trick him into marrying you, to let him believe he was the father of some other man’s child—How could you do something like that?”

“No! That wasn’t it at all. I never would have married Crewe.”

“But you sent that letter to—” Jess’s voice choked in her throat as the realization of what Amanda had planned struck her. No, not to marry him.

Jess knew now why there had been no mention of a baby in that letter, why Lucien had sent back the reply he had. The letter hadn’t been for Lucien at all. It had been nothing but pretense to appease Jess.

“You played me for a fool,” Jess rasped out, more wounded by her sister’s betrayal than she could ever have expressed. “And Lucien.”

“I had no choice!” Amanda’s expression was stricken, and she began to shake even as she pressed her hand to her forehead. “Don’t you see? I cannot marry Henry. He’d been offered an administrative position in the East India Company, with plans to travel to India. But he couldn’t be assigned to Calcutta if he had a wife and child. They would have taken his position away from him if we married, and I could never hurt him like that.”

“But you could hurt Lucien?”

“No—it isn’t like that.” She clasped Jess’s upper arms beseechingly. “Crewe is a rakehell whose reputation was already so black that rumors of another woman ruined at his hands wouldn’t draw any attention at all. That’s why I picked him. I knew he would never marry me, and I would never have let him anyway.”

Jess could barely breathe! So she pressed her fist against her chest as if she could physically make herself continue to pull in air. “Then you did it only…only to fool me and Aunt Matilda.”

The guilt that radiated from Amanda was palpable. “It had only been two months,” she repeated, barely louder than a whisper. “I knew all along that I’d have to go to Ireland, that I couldn’t keep my baby. But I thought—I thought I could…”

“You thought you could lie to me for the rest of your life,” Jess whispered, blinking hard as she stepped out of her sister’s reach. “But why? If you knew you weren’t going to ask the real father to marry you, if you knew you couldn’t keep the baby—why go to all that trouble with Lucien?”

“Because of you, Jess.” A hardness flashed in her eyes as she crossed her arms in an unwittingly scolding pose. “You wouldn’t have been able to let it be and leave me to my own wishes.”

Her mouth fell open. “I would have helped you.”

“Help? Is that what you’ve been doing for the past two months?” She threw up her hands in sheer frustration, her eyes glistening. “Look at what you did when you thought I’d been ruined by Crewe. You demanded he marry me, and when he didn’t, you set out to destroy his reputation.”

“By making him good,” she corrected, but that defense sounded paltry even to her own ears.

Amanda shook her head. “You would have done the same thing to Henry—demanded he marry me and ruin his career when he did, because he is a good man and would always do the right thing. He would have chosen me over his career. I couldn’t let you do that to him. That’s why I can’t tell you anything more about him. I won’t! I’m protecting him as much as my baby.”

The world was tilting around her, and Jess couldn’t find the right way up. She had been the one who had been lied to, misled, and betrayed, and by her sister no less, the one person in the world she thought she could always trust. Now to be accused like this… For once in her life, Jess couldn’t find the words to defend herself. The pain was simply too overwhelming.

Yet she didn’t cry. Somehow, she kept the stinging tears from spilling down her cheeks.

“I know you feel responsible for me,” Amanda continued, “that you blame yourself for Papa’s leaving us. But you didn’t cause that, Jessamyn, and you have to stop trying to protect me. If I’m in trouble, then it’s my fault, and I’ll find my way out on my own. The best thing you can do for me sometimes is just to not do anything. That’s what I need you to do now. Just leave it all alone.” Her lips pursed into a determined line. “That’s why I had to return in person, why I couldn’t simply send you a letter. I couldn’t let you continue to punish Crewe when the fault was all mine.”

Jess recognized that for the lie it was. Amanda couldn’t send a letter and risk that Aunt Matilda would discover what had really happened, that she had gone into her situation fully under her own decision and not because she’d been manipulated by a rake. That harsh truth rushed through Jess like ice water.

“Please understand.” Amanda hugged Jess tightly to her even though she stiffened like stone in her arms. “I’m not angry with you, and I don’t want you to be angry with me. I just want us to go back to being as we were, when we trusted each other in everything.” She shook her head even while her arms tightened around Jess, who didn’t move to hug her back. “Can we try that again?”

Jess forced a jerking nod. Was it lying if she didn’t utter a word?

A knock rapped at the door. They both stepped back and turned to see Simms appear in the doorway.

“Miss Amanda, the refreshment tray and your travel bag have been taken up to your room,” he informed her, “and Cook said the water would be brought up shortly.”

She gave the butler a tired smile. “Thank you, Simms. I’ll go up in just a minute.”

As pleased as if she’d just complimented him on inventing world peace, Simms turned with a smile and walked back toward the rear stairs.

Amanda let out a long sigh as the weight of the world finally lifted from her shoulders now that she’d confessed her secrets. “I really am exhausted,” she told Jess, “and I can use a long bath and even longer nap.” Concern drew together her brows, but the worry that Jess had seen earlier was gone. “We’ll talk more later, all right?”

Another nod. Another lie.

Amanda gave her a quick hug, then followed after Simms.

Jess stood unmoving, listening to Amanda’s footsteps as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom on the first floor…and to the brutal thumping of her own heart. Now alone, she let a single tear slip free.

She felt broken, except, oh God , how much it hurt! Not broken. Shattered. And there was only one way to glue herself back together.

Stripping off her paint apron and tossing it aside, she snatched up her reticule and wrap, then silently left the house.

*

The door of Brixton House opened, and the butler cast a curious glance at Jess. “Yes, my lady?”

But Jess gave back the same curious look. He wasn’t like any butler she’d ever seen before. Oh, he was smartly uniformed, certainly, and had forsaken the powdered white wigs that so many employers still insisted their butlers and footmen wear in favor of the new fashion of clipped hair. But it was how he filled out that uniform that made her stare. Towering and broad, he had the musculature of an ox. Goodness .

She pulled in a breath and her courage. “I need to see His Grace the Duke of Crewe.”

That drew another curious glance over her, this one clearly noting that she was young, female, and alone, yet calling on a notorious rake. “My apologies, Miss, but His Grace is not accepting visitors.”

“It’s important.” She needed to see Lucien, explain everything, beg his forgiveness…and in that, somehow, salvage any pieces that were still left of her shattered heart. And her pride. “Please. It won’t take long.”

“I’m sorry, but His Grace is not at home.”

“I can wait.”

“He’s not expected back for several days. If you would like to—”

“Where has he gone?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Please. I need to speak with him.”

“Miss.” His eyes softened with sympathy. “I understand you’re upset. But revealing His Grace’s location would only get me sacked, which I hope would upset you even more, and I couldn’t bear it if I caused you additional distress.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she mumbled, “I understand.”

The mountain of a man in front of her seemed relieved, if not surprised that she wanted to know his employer’s whereabouts. Given Lucien’s rakish reputation, having an upset female appear at his door with demands to see to him must have been a common occurrence. Or maybe not, if the good side of him could be believed. Oh, she simply had no idea what to think about him!

But she knew she had to see him. Right away. She would track him down at White’s if she had to, or chase him all the way to his country estate, wherever it was, or even go so far as—

“Ealing!”

The butler’s back snapped straight, and his eyes flared. “Miss?”

She remembered the little farm in Ealing that the investigator had told her about, how Lucien received messages from there, and how he was known to sneak away there. “His Grace owns a farm in Ealing. Is that where he is?”

The butler’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut. He didn’t answer, but from his reaction, Jess knew that was exactly where Lucien had gone.

She pressed, “What is in Ealing that is so important to him?” She searched the butler’s face, hoping he’d take pity on her and answer, but he stayed resolute in his silence. “Don’t think for one moment that I believe he only goes there for the races.”

The tips of the man’s ears turned red. “I—I cannot…that is, I am not at liberty…”

A terrible thought struck her. “Does he keep a mistress there?” She lowered her voice, not for secrecy but because it would have broken if she dared to speak any louder. “Or a secret wife?”

With that, his entire face turned beet red. “Good day, miss.”

He stepped inside and closed the door in her face.

She lifted her hand to knock again, then stopped. Questioning the butler would get her nowhere. No, she had to find out the truth for herself, and she would start by finding Lucien.