Spinster's Gambit (24 page)

Do not make me face him again,
she thought desperately. 

“And he knows the Duke of Mariton and the Earl of Kimberley. I know most of the rest of the House of Lords, and my business holds controlling shares in most of their endeavors. If you can get the duke on your side, I will attempt to extort the rest,” he promised. Jac stared at him, wondering how powerful the Eastern Textile Company really was. 

“Surely people will wonder why you are so invested in Mr. Holcombe’s case dying before it starts,” she warned. Mr. Charington smiled at her, looking vaguely impressed. 

“Quite right. My business and my reputation will be permanently associated with this, I should think. Would you like some tea? A bath? I can berate myself on my own without trouble, I should think.” 

Jac blinked rapidly, realizing she was still shivering in her vestibule. Odd, all the same, for the man to offer her such a thing in her own home. 

“A bath, yes, I’ll return in a moment,” she requested and caught the glimpse of a maid disappearing back into a servant’s door beside her, no doubt going to fetch the hot water.

Jac let herself be led away by a footman, wondering how Daniel had gotten himself involved with one of the most powerful men in the country.

And she had to go plead help from another one. Jac felt sick at the thought. The Duke of Aspen. What was she to say to him? 

~~//~~

She was traveling again the next morning. The carriage jerked forward as soon as the sun crested over the horizon. Mr. Charington had insisted he take the phaeton to London and lent her his closed coach and six horses and told her coachman where he had horses boarded along their route, ready to take over. He’d given Harold a signed letter of permission to borrow the horses and they traveled rapidly. Jac tried to focus on the warm, dry carriage, rather than the bruises on her legs and backside, building up from too many hours in a jostling, jerking carriage. 

She did not want to think about how she looked when they finally arrived. The coachman put down her step in front of the ivy-covered Aspen estate home she’d only just left. Jac dragged herself from the carriage and fussed with her tangled, frizzy hair while Harold got out to knock. 

She did her best to gather herself as a curious-looking servant led her to stand in the Duke of Aspen’s yellow salon, where she’d played piano so many times. She stayed standing, her legs feeling wobbly and her back aching, unable to get the shamed blush off her face. 

For Daniel,
Jac steeled herself, hearing Aspen’s strong footsteps along the marble hallway, heading toward her. Aspen stopped in the doorway, hesitating at the sight of her, apparently not having fully believed her calling card.

“Miss Holcombe,” he greeted, surprise in his voice and Jac felt her ears burn as her blush spread further. She dipped her head as she curtsied, thinking of the gall she had, reappearing in the man’s home.

I stood in breeches in front of you.

“I need your help,” she made herself say, looking up from the floor in time to see him snort.

“Really,” he asked, his voice amused. “And you think I owe you that, do you? I assure you I do not,” he stated, crossing his arms.

“I realize that-” Jacoline started but Aspen took a step forward, his expression darkening.

“How many lies to you think you told me, ma’am? On estimate? Not counting the duplicates that required no imagination, that is,” he asked, his deep voice sharp and angry. “Miss, you belong in a mad house, not in my drawing room,” he ordered.

This is not going well.

“You are likely right, but we do not have much time,” she urged, wanting to growl at the ceiling. Why did it have to be
him
she needed? “Your Grace,” she tacked on. 

You’re not Jack, not his friend,
she reminded herself. Aspen frowned. 

“Pray, what are you talking about?” he asked, sounding more frustrated than concerned. 

He does not know. 

“Daniel’s been indicted,” she said, the words falling between them.

Remember you still care about him,
she prayed, watching the man. Aspen’s eyes widened, the scars around his left eye twisting madly.

“They will find nothing and he will be acquitted. He is quite careful with his privacy. It shall not affect him or his cause so much,” Aspen replied, though it sounded like he was looking for reassurance. Jac closed her eyes, frustrated. Why did he think she would come here, if the case would find no evidence?

“There is evidence,” she bit out, opening her eyes. Aspen frowned. Still, Jac could not help but notice that he did not seem particularly surprised. 

He already knew,
she thought. From the way Aspen swallowed heavily and ran a hand over his mouth, Jac thought he knew what the rumors would do to her brother as well.  “Not enough to convict him, but enough to ruin him. The rumors – neither of us expected this to affect Daniel. Mr. Charington is trying to stop the case in the House of Lords, before any evidence is presented, but we cannot do it without your influence,” Jac explained. Aspen ran his tongue over his teeth. 

“I do not sit in the House of Lords. I travel too much to maintain a Parliamentary position,” he replied, sounding worried. 

“But you can request a seat on this one,” Jac insisted. Aspen shook his head, not looking pleased. “Please, Your Grace. I do not like traveling for more than a week on end, but Daniel’s fight for abolition will be finished if he faces this trial,” she insisted. Aspen blinked and glanced over her, his eyes thoughtful. Jac quieted beneath his gaze, wondering what he thought about. They’d lied to him thoroughly, she thought, ashamed. She looked away from him and pretended to be fascinated by the fabric of his parlor chairs. 

“I am only one vote. I have a better idea,” he said, and crossed the room to yank on the bell pull. A maid appeared almost instantly. “Tell my mother I’ll meet her in the green parlor,” he ordered, before turning back toward Jac, his face drawn and worried.

“She knows the wives of everyone on that council,” he said, before running a hand down his face. She saw questions flash in his eyes but he did not ask them. Jac exhaled heavily, feeling her shoulders drop an inch as she processed what he was saying. He would help them, in spite of it all. 

You are too good,
she thought, but could not say it. 

“We’ll take my carriage in an hour. Have you eaten?” he asked. Jac blew out a heavy breath, trying to remember what time it was. 

“I haven’t, but -” she started and he turned away from her. “You do not owe me hospitality, Your Grace,” she said quietly. Aspen glanced at her derisively and jerked on the bellpull again.

“You’ll eat and we’ll leave. My mother will write to the others directly. No doubt the trial will start within the week, with all of Parliament out for your brother’s head,” he stated. Jac nodded, not trusting her voice. Aspen nodded back sharply. 

“I will speak with her. A footman will show you into the dining room when a meal is prepared,” he said, and disappeared into the hall. 

Jac sat on the closest chair, her heart slowly sinking further, until her head felt unusually heavy and she could feel her pulse in her knees. She was exhausted. She’d never been in the house when it was so quiet. Jac listened to the quiet patter of servants out in the house until a footman finally came to fetch her. She followed, her heartbeat racing and her mouth too dry, and found Aspen seated at the head of the table. She sat beside him, not knowing what to say. 

“Why is Mr. Charington involved, then?” Aspen asked. Jac closed her eyes, hearing the duchess walk into the room, her heels clicking on the stone floor until she got to the rug beneath the table. Jac stood politely. 

“Never mind,” she heard Aspen say, his tone awkward and Jac blushed while she curtsied to the duchess. “I will accompany you to London,” he promised. Jac felt herself exhale heavily as she stood, relief rushing through her. The duchess nodded back, her eyebrows high as she glanced between them.

“No chaperone, Miss Holcombe?” she asked, her voice concerned. “The roads are not safe.”

We didn’t want her available to testify,
Jac thought, swallowing.

“I will explain, mother, and I shall accompany her to London,” Aspen ordered, his voice hard. Jac dipped her head, hearing the anger there. 

I dressed in breeches in front of you,
Jac thought again, only blushing worse. She looked up finally to see the duchess watching her.

“Never mind that. I shall join you. This must be Parliament’s last session but the season cannot be said to be over until it’s done,” she said.

She’s protecting my reputation,
Jac thought, feeling only more ridiculous as the thought of Aspen ravishing her in the coach crossed her mind. She wanted to huddle in a ball, embarrassment coursing through her. Aspen did not reply. The food arrived, a cold platter. Jac ate in silence with the Duke and Duchess of Aspen watching her. She could barely get herself to swallow. She finished her plate but neither of the two peers moved. Jac sat, glancing between them.

I have to get to London,
Jac thought, shifting in her seat. The duchess did not move from her perch on the chair across from her, her eyebrows apparently glued high on her forehead. Aspen stared back, his expression unyielding.

“Fine. I shall follow in the coach behind,” the duchess conceded finally. Jac jerked her head up from staring at her plate and the duchess smiled at her easily, as if she had not just lost some strange staring contest with her son. “Ready a second coach,” she ordered the footman waiting with them. The man bowed and disappeared.

“I should prepare to travel,” she said, rising slowly from her seat. Aspen nodded, his face softening.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely and glanced at Jac, his expression unfathomable. The duchess nodded sharply and strode from the room, her gown swirling around her feet.

“She would slow us down,” Aspen stated, pushing himself up from his own seat.

“I’m sorry,” Jac said quietly, standing to join him.

“Don’t mention it,” he ordered and gestured to the servant striding quickly into the room, his shoes equally loud on the marble.

“The coach is ready,” Aspen surmised and the servant nodded. Jac threw her napkin on the table and rushed to follow. They needed to get to London.

~~//~~

Aspen tried not to think, but it was an impossible task. He stared out the right window, keeping his left side toward Miss Holcombe, knowing his scars would not betray how he blushed. Memories scrolled in front of his eyes in a ceaseless battery and it was all he could do not to groan aloud. 

Let me teach you to lunge before I return to the bout.

How did you vote?

You’ve truly never smoked?

I have not had the opportunity to contract a pox.
Aspen smacked his forehead against the window frame, closing his eyes as his ears burned. Miss Holcombe had no right to deceive him so. Aspen only felt his humiliation deepen, thinking the woman’s name. 

Damn it, Daniel,
he thought, wanting to punch the man. First though, he had to save him and his damn abolitionist effort, if there was anything left to save by the time they reached London. Lord, but he wanted out of the damn coach. Aspen blinked, suddenly realizing where he sat at the back of the coach box, facing forward. Miss Holcombe had seated herself backwards, looking out her own window, as if their positions were perfectly normal. Aspen stared at her, trying to imagine the woman in a man’s clothing, his friend Jack Holcombe again. 

Have you even been with a woman? 

Aspen turned his face to the window again, gritting his teeth as another wave of shame coursed through him. He closed his eyes, thinking for a moment that he was going to be ill, facing forward or no. The moment passed but he kept his face turned away, promising himself that after this coach ride, he’d never have to speak with her again.

~~//~~

“Why?” Aspen asked, breaking the silence for the first time in the hours-long drive. Jacoline glanced up at him and met his dark eyes. He looked baffled but not amused. She ran a hand over her skirts, thinking back. “Were you just bored?” he demanded. Jac blinked slowly and sighed.

“Yes,” she answered simply and Aspen huffed out a quiet scoff, turning to face the window again, as if that were quite enough to condemn her for. Jac watched him, sadness brewing in her stomach. She knew his hands, his eyes, his scars,
knew
him and she was just a stranger he’d determined to be so very insane. “I was lonely. There were -” she paused, trying to gather her thoughts. He did not respond but she knew he was listening. There was nothing else to do in the silent carriage. “There were jokes that could not be said as a lady. Skills I couldn’t have, places I could not go. And I had gotten very little in return for my spotless reputation. Nothing to lose, we’d thought -”
Aspen frowned, his gaze not moving from the window, and Jac clarified.

“Daniel and I. It was his idea. To say ‘hang society’ and show me what I wanted to see.”

Aspen huffed out a laugh.

“That sounds like him. Rash,” he said and Jac smiled fondly. 

“I had only Lord Candrow showing any interest in me and I did not return his affection. So we decided to break the rules and bring me fencing. Just the once.” 

Aspen snorted again but he did not sound amused anymore.

“And thus you started deceiving everyone he knew. And what of the Earl of Blancard’s family, if you’d been so discovered in his home?” he demanded. Jac ran a hand down her skirts, grateful for the conservative cut to her gown. She felt far too exposed to this man already. 

“I did not think anyone would be hurt. It was only to be a few weeks’ foolishness and ‘Mr. Jack Holcombe’ would leave the country,” she replied. Aspen’s mouth twisted at the name. Jac winced and wrung her hands together. 

What would you do for the rest of your life if you did not give Aspen a chance now?
Daniel’s voice rang in her thoughts again.