One Scandalous Kiss (17 page)

“Yes, certainly. They’ve been introduced.”

She seemed to gather this information and tuck it away, an inscrutable expression on her face.

He longed to ask her what she’d said to Jessamin, what she’d done to make her distressed enough to leave the room. But he suspected he wouldn’t get the truth from Miss Adderly even if he was rude enough to question her plainly.

“You seem bemused, Lady Katherine.”

She tipped her body toward him, too close, and whispered so that none might overhear.

“It’s just that it seems a dangerous proposition, my lord. That the wealthy American woman you plan to wed and the ruined shop owner who scandalized you in front of everyone should be socializing together. And here, at Hartwell, the very heart of the great Dunthorpes of Berkshire.”

She might have known about the incident in Mayfair from her acquaintance with Jessamin, yet Lucius knew—from the glow of triumph in her eyes and her mocking tone—that Lady Katherine Adderly was the woman who’d offered a hundred pounds to humiliate him. And for just this moment, he suspected, when she might savor her victory.

He had no intention of playing her game.

“Why shouldn’t she be? Miss Wright is my aunt’s companion.”

At least that bit of news was unexpected, judging by the way Lady Katherine’s mouth dropped open and her lashes fluttered over wide eyes.

“Lady Stamford? She took employment with
your
aunt?”

A nod was all he could manage when what he truly wished to do was tell Miss Adderly just how much he’d relished Jessamin’s kiss, that her attempt to mortify him had brought him nothing but pleasure. Pleasure and several weeks of sleepless nights.

When she said nothing more, he left her standing there, that shocked look still fixed on her face. He turned away from her and the rest of the gathered guests, who were too enthralled with Miss Sedgwick’s performance to notice his exit.

Two maids approached him in the hallway, heads down, carrying trays with more tea toward the drawing room.

“Miss Wright. Have you seen Miss Wright?”

The one he’d mistaken for Jessamin answered. “I believe she’s in the kitchen, my lord.”

Chapter Eighteen

“M
Y
GOODNESS,
T
ILLY,
you are a very fast learner.”

“My mum did teach me a bit when I was very wee, miss. I remember as I go along.”

Jessamin smiled at the younger woman and nodded, encouraging her to go on.

Tilly read another few sentences in a stop-and-start manner, looking up for affirmation or assistance from Jess when she came upon a word she wasn’t sure of.

“And will I go next, miss?”

“Yes, James. You’re next.”

The boot boy, James, was as keen to learn to read as Tilly. Rachel stood nearby ironing one of Lady Stamford’s underskirts. Jess knew she was listening, though she’d repeatedly declared books did not interest her at all. Only ladies’ magazines, she’d insisted, and then mostly for the fashion prints. Now she just listened in, pretending disinterest.

James had heard Jess and Tilly reading together in the kitchen on Jess’s first night at Hartwell. He’d been an eager student ever since, though he wasn’t keen on their choice of books. Tilly wished to read one of Miss Austen’s novels, but James begged to practice with a penny dreadful his brother had given him.

Tilly continued on, gaining confidence and speed. They had begun reading
Pride and Prejudice
before leaving Marleston, and Tilly read from the third chapter.

“ ‘ . . . for he was discovered to be proud, to be above his company, and above being pleased—’ ” she read until James interrupted her with a guffaw of laughter.

“Sounds a bit like our Lord Grim, eh?”

Jess knew it wasn’t true of Lord Grimsby at all but held her tongue. He’d never spoken to her as anything but an equal, and he clearly took pleasure in discussing books.

“You shouldn’t say such things, Jimmy,” Tilly chastised, seemingly oblivious to her own tendency to gossip about Lord Grimsby and his father.

“Nor should you interrupt Tilly when she’s reading. You would not appreciate her cutting in when you’re reading about Terrible Bill Tetley and all the other scoundrels in your book.”

“Yes, miss.” James looked contrite, though he still held the shadow of a grin on his small face.

The sound of a man clearing his throat and heavy footsteps nearly frightened all of them off their chairs.

“I’m ever so sorry, my lord. We were just—”

The viscount held up his hand and Tilly stopped in mid-sentence, waiting with a horrified look on her face for what she seemed to think would be a terrible punishment.

“No need to apologize. Reading is a fine pursuit. Never seem to find the time for it myself anymore. James?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Jessamin watched as the boy sat up straight, making him appear taller and older than his years. He looked at the viscount with a kind of reverence, despite his recent jest.

“Perhaps you could find time to read the
Times
or the
Sporting News
, and report back to me now and then.”

“Yes, my lord!”

“Miss Wright, may I speak with you?”

Jessamin patted Tilly on the shoulder as she approached Lord Grimsby. The girl was still quaking in fear, though James beamed as if he’d just been elected king for a day.

Lord Grimsby walked to a corner of the kitchen, far enough away that others could see them but might not hear their conversation.

“Well done, Miss Wright.”

In the few steps it took to follow him to the corner, Jess practiced justifications and arguments in her mind, expecting chastisement for wasting the staff’s work time or distracting them. She didn’t expect commendation, or the glint of appreciation in his gaze.

“You approve, my lord?” She’d managed to get the words out without stuttering, but her pulse stuttered, fluttering wildly in her veins.

“Yes, of course.” The light in his eyes seemed to dim and he looked a bit crestfallen that she’d expected anything less of him.

“But you don’t approve of women having the right to vote?”

Jess clutched the fabric of her skirt and bit her lip the moment the words were out. She’d had the habit since childhood of blurting out thoughts in her head whenever the impulse struck. It had proved harmless when Father and shelves lined with books were her only companions. But why provoke the viscount when the man had just praised her?

“Do you truly wish to have this conversation now? Here? In the kitchen?”

She wasn’t certain where the correct time or place might be, but she was quite content to let the matter rest altogether for the moment. She’d take the question back if she could, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, he heaved a breathy sigh.

“Very well, Miss Wright.” He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest, and she longed to smile. It was the same manner he’d assumed when she first approached him in the meadow upon arriving at Hartwell.

He rocked back and forth on his heels. “To tell you the truth, I have not given the matter as much thought as I should. Certainly not as much as you and my aunt would no doubt urge me to.” Looking at the floor, he clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow.

Jess realized the kitchen had gone quiet. The viscount was so tall and broad-shouldered, she had to crane her neck to see around him, and she wasn’t surprised to find Rachel, Tilly, and James with their gazes turned her way.

Lord Grimsby finally raised his head. When he spoke, his tone was measured and calm. “I would not oppose women’s suffrage outright, but do women know enough about the issues they’d be deciding upon?”

Kitty really did have everything about the man wrong.

“That is it exactly, my lord. They must be educated about such matters. Anyone who casts a vote should be.”

“Which brings us back to your reading lessons.” He lowered his arms, and the tension in his body seemed to ease.

Jess couldn’t imagine her life without the ability to read, and she’d found more enjoyment in teaching Tilly and James than she’d ever experienced selling books or managing her father’s shop.

“Well, yes, I suppose it does. The ability to read would be the first step to that sort of education.”

Lord Grimsby leaned in, lowering his voice. “And again I say well done, Miss Wright.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

A flicker of satisfaction flashed in his gaze, but he didn’t smile or indicate his pleasure in any other way.

“How did you come to believe I was opposed to the suffrage?”

Like an unstoppable, onrushing tide, Jess knew the whole of it must come out eventually. And something in the way the viscount looked at her, as if he could see into her, beyond any defenses she might construct, made her wish to tell him the plain, unvarnished truth.

“Lady Katherine told me.”

His mouth curved, not quite a grin, just a wry tip at the edges of his full lips.

“Did she, indeed? She is why I came to find you just now. The lady said something to you. Upset you.”

Kitty’s words had upset her, though she’d said nothing cruel. She’d whispered so that no one else could hear and asked how Jess had come to be at Hartwell. A reasonable question, since anyone aware of the circumstances of Jess’s first encounter with Lord Grimsby would know it was the last place she belonged.

Standing in the sitting room as May Sedgwick held court and considering how to respond to Kitty, Jess had known it too. She didn’t belong at Hartwell.

And yet here, with Lucius standing near enough to touch, whatever she’d known in the sitting room faded.

But what had Kitty said to him? Perhaps she’d finally confessed her role in the Mayfair incident.

“She told you, then?”

“No. She admitted nothing, but it all became clear. What did she whisper to you?”

“She only asked why I’m here, but her question did cause me to reconsider my employment with your aunt.”

“Do you wish to leave?”

“I’d almost decided to do so earlier today. When Miss Sedgwick arrived.”

That news seemed to unsettle him. He lifted his hands to his hips and turned away from her. Taking a few steps, he tread in a small circle and then walked back to confront her.

“But here you are, Miss Wright. What brought on your change of heart?”

There was a pause, fragile and full of meaning, between his question and her answer. Jess couldn’t tell him a truth she wasn’t certain of herself. She felt out of place at Hartwell and yet couldn’t imagine never seeing him or Lady Stamford again. And something about May Sedgwick tugged at Jess’s nature, a tendency to offer help when and where she could.

“Miss Sedgwick. She asked me to stay.” It was far easier to point to May than admit any of her own unsorted feelings. “I suspect Lady Katherine would find that ironic.”

He tilted his head up, examining the ceiling above him, and pursed his lips. Jess thought he might finally smile.

“I don’t give a damn what Lady Katherine thinks.”

And it was clear he did not. He moved a step closer, vibrating with emotion. Anger? Frustration? Jess couldn’t read the expression in his gaze.

“And I do not wish you to leave. I am not certain . . .” He whispered the words, the most tentative admission she’d ever heard. Jess waited for him to finish, to say more, but he remained quiet. Quiet and tense, like a coil ready to spring.

“Certain, my lord?”

He edged toward her, his large frame blocking her view of everyone else. She expected him to answer, yet his gaze held nothing but questions and his eyes searched hers, as if she might know the answer.

But she didn’t have answers, and she wasn’t certain she could find her voice to speak. It was his answer she needed, longed for. Why did he wish her to stay?

She drew in a breath and held it, every inch of her body tensing. Even her heart seemed to pause, waiting for a reason to beat. It was as if he’d drawn her to the edge of a great precipice, and she wanted to know he’d catch her if she fell.

“I am only certain of this.” He lifted his hand and flicked his wrist back and forth, pointing first to himself and then to Jess before lowering his arm. “Even as it confounds me.”

He didn’t touch her, didn’t kiss her, merely looked at her, searched her. He seemed to ask if she was certain of this too—this powerful, undeniable pull between them.

His questioning gaze, the need she saw there, was enough to draw her closer to the edge.

“Yes.”

Finally, and quite devastatingly, he smiled at her. Not a fleeting expression, but a broad, gleaming expression that etched lines in his face and revealed half-moon dimples on each of his cheeks. He looked boyish, joyful, as if, just for a moment, he’d left his burdens behind.

Something in her eased, lifted. To be the cause of his smile—that was reason enough to stay at Hartwell.

But what had she agreed to with her
yes
? She couldn’t deny the attraction between them, but could she ignore her circumstances? Employed by his aunt, and committed to assist his potential bride during her stay at Hartwell, she couldn’t envision a scenario that ended in anything other than her ruin or their mutual heartache.

He seemed to sense her doubts and moved closer, as if to shelter her, and the rest of it fell away—the kitchen, the other staff members watching, her doubts rushing in. There was only Lucius, standing so close she could feel the warmth of his body, see the stubble on his chin, study the shape of his mouth and wish he’d smile again.

Jess imagined being brave, lifting onto her toes and kissing him as she had that night in the gallery. She ached to kiss him, and what blissful relief it would be to stop denying what she wanted, what was in her heart, what her whole body affirmed every time he was near. Surely he could read it in her gaze every time he looked her way.

The latch that held her back was fragile, so easily slipped. Emotions bubbled up, ready to burst free of the constraint she’d imposed. Before she could think better of it, impulse won out. She reached up, eager to touch him, ready to kiss him again, as brazenly as she had the first time.

“What the deuces are you two doing conspiring in the corner over there? Jessamin, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. And Lucius.”

Lady Stamford stood at the bottom of the stairwell leading from the kitchen up to the hall near the dining room. Her expression reflected more curiosity than anger, but Jess’s guilt made her breathless, as if all the air had been drawn from the room.

She took a step away from Lucius, and then another, until she felt the cool tile of the kitchen wall at her back.

He held still a moment, drew in a ragged breath, and turned to address his aunt. “We were just on our way upstairs, Aunt Augusta.”

Lucius didn’t move away from her, and Jess was grateful for the shelter of his broad shoulders and chest, to have a moment to compose herself away from Lady Stamford’s gaze. She felt the press of his leg against the skirt of her gown, and then, between them where none could see, his hand, just the edge of it, brushing against her own.

Her body thrummed with a sickening mix of desire and regret, and she wanted nothing so much as to reach for him, to borrow a bit of his strength.

Then he turned, a quick dip of his head, and spoke under his breath. “Meet me in the library tonight.”

He turned back toward his aunt, giving Jess no time to answer, but he remained near as they approached Lady Stamford.

“Jessamin, would you check on our young ladies? Lady Katherine is just settling into her room. See that she has everything she needs. Then would you meet me in my sitting room, my dear? We have much to accomplish before dinner. And Lucius, my boy, you should go and see to your guests who’ve lingered in the drawing room.”

Her tone was light, affectionate, with nothing of command in it, yet Lucius nodded his acquiescence and moved toward the stairs. He didn’t look back at Jess until he’d reached the first step, where he turned a moment to gaze at her before continuing his ascent.

“Are you quite well, my dear?”

“Yes, quite. Thank you, my lady.”

She’d never fibbed to Lady Stamford before, but Jess wasn’t certain she’d be well again for quite some time.

W
ITH EACH STE
P
he took away from Jessamin, boot heels clicking on marble, Lucius wished to return and finish their conversation. Though filled with more intimation than words, more bold glances than explanations, it was as if they’d made a start, taken a momentous step. And he had no desire to retreat.