The Rebel (39 page)

“Henry! You must help me. I am looking for
Jane, but…but…I have no idea…idea… where else…to look…It is so
urgent…!”

Placing a hand on her chest to calm her
breath and find her voice, she looked into his face for the first
time and was surprised by the sadness she saw there. Her heart
sank. She placed a desperate hand on his arm.

“No! Please do not tell me something has
happened. Please…no!” The tears fell fast and furious, and denial
twisted her throat into a knot. “Not Jane…”

Clara felt him take her by the arm and lead
her away from the road and the curious eyes of the villagers.
Vaguely, she was conscious of moving down a path across the stony
brook and then up through green fields. The tears, though,
continued to fall.

“It is all…my fault,” she hiccupped. “If I
had not…”

“Nothing has happened to Jane,” he assured
her calmly.

Clara stared unbelievingly into his
red-rimmed eyes. “But…you…you look like…you have been…that you are
upset!”

“I have just left a funeral.” The gray eyes
looked back at the lower end of the village. “The tanner Darby
O’Connell’s wife, may she rest in peace. God knows she never knew
any until now.”

“Oh. I am so sorry,” she whispered, wiping
away at her face. “Was she young?”

“Very.”

“And she left children?”

“One died during the child birth that killed
her. There are three more young ones left behind.”

Clara wiped away more tears.
“And…the…husband?”

“Nearly mad with grief, poor devil.”

Her tears would not stop, and she dashed at
them incessantly. She couldn’t seem to get hold of her emotions. In
a moment, Henry placed an arm gently around her shoulders. It only
made things worse as she melted against him.

“I am…so sorry,” she sobbed. “Here, I did
not even know the woman. But it is so sad and I am so worried about
Jane. But I cannot find her…and I know she is angry with me. She
might not even believe what I have to tell…her. But I
overheard…Captain Wallis talking to the father…and…I have to find
Jane to warn her.”

Clara hadn’t even realized that she was
babbling until Henry turned her around in his arms. She stopped
abruptly. Her face flushed with heat when his hand lifted her chin
until she was looking into his intense gray eyes.

“Start from beginning. What was it exactly
that you overheard?”

Clara took a deep breath and blurted out
word for word everything she’d heard by the paddock.

“Captain Wallis did not say that they think
Jane is the rebel Egan, but if they are looking for a horse like
Jane’s…and if they come tonight and arrest her, I…” Clara broke
down under the weight of her own misery. She could not even try to
control the sobbing that was robbing her of her breath. The tears
continued to fall even when Henry pulled her against him. His
strong hands caressed her back. Her head nestled beneath his
chin.

“You cannot allow yourself to fall apart
like this. We cannot give them confirmation of something they may
only suspect.”

“Please, Henry! I have to find her.” She
clutched at the lapel of his coat and looked up into his stern face
again. “We cannot let them catch her. Please…!”

“We shan’t let them take her away,” the
parson assured her solemnly. “I want you to get back and prepare
for the ball as if everything is as it should be. Pretend nothing
has happened.”

“But I cannot. I must find her…”

“This is all nothing more than an opening
gambit. Musgrave is beating the drums of rumor, and then waiting to
see who runs. If he had proof that Jane is the rebel, he would have
already had Captain Wallis and his dragoons turning Woodfield House
inside out.”

“But you do not know that for certain.
Henry, I cannot chance that she might…”

“You must trust me, Clara.” He took hold of
her shoulders. The gray eyes bore into her. “I shall be there
tonight…and I will try until then to find Jane. She must be
present, as well. Musgrave is a coward, and he must be faced
down.”

Twinges of doubt still raked at Clara’s
insides. “But what do we do if he decides to arrest her
tonight?”

“Out of respect for your father, Sir Robert
would not risk making a scene during the ball. But I give you my
word, I shall come up with a way to thwart him if he is so foolish
as to act. Nothing will happen to your sister, Clara. Nothing.”

Henry’s assurances worked to calm Clara’s
worries. But the growing awareness of the touch of his hands and
the gaze on her face revived another deeper ache. It might have
been entirely the fault of her hopeful imagination. But the
pressure of his fingers still on her arm. The closeness of their
bodies. The feel of his warm breath so close. And then she saw his
gaze fall on her lips.

She prayed to God that he would kiss
her.

“Go,” Henry whispered hoarsely. His hands
dropped from her shoulders. “We must be at our best, tonight.”

Clara didn’t give a rush about the
appropriateness of any of it. She wrapped her arms around his neck
and planted her lips firmly on his for an endless moment…before
turning and walking away. He hadn’t responded to the kiss, she
thought, glancing back as she reached the edge of the village. He
was still standing where she left him, staring off into the green
fields.

But he hadn’t pushed her away, either.

***

“She
is
here, Nicholas. Really she
is.” Frances nodded emphatically at him from her horse. “I saw Jane
with my very own eyes. She came back with Mother not half an hour
ago.”

Nicholas dismounted, handed the reins of his
steed to a groom, and started quickly toward the manor house.

“But you cannot go to her,” The young woman
warned, urging her mare up the path alongside the garden. “The
guests will begin arriving in less than three hours. Mother and
Jane are in the middle of some little scheme having to do with some
of her paintings. And just before I came down from the house, I
heard Fey ordering a bath brought up for Jane. And after that, she
still needs to dress and do her hair and all the other things to
get ready. And you have a lot to do to get ready yourself, as well,
Nick!” Frances glanced from the tip of his muddy boots to the
stained shirt and unshaven face. “You look absolutely hideous. By
the way, your valet is already waiting in your room and…”

He started toward the archway. Frances
reined her horse to a halt.

“And Mother told me to warn you not to scare
her off again,” she called after him.

He stopped at the door and turned to frown
fiercely at her. “Do you mean to say that Jane was staying away
because of me?”

Frances carefully weighed her words before
speaking again. “No. I do not know that exactly. But I did hear
Jane tell Fey that if you asked to see her…well, to say that she
was not available.”

Without another word, Nicholas turned on his
heel and yanked open the door.

***

Every family of any substance for fifteen
miles around appeared to have ridden over for the ball. The noise
of the throng, mixed with the harmonic rhythms of the music,
drifted up the stairs and into her bedchamber.

The invited guests had arrived. The rest of
the Purefoy family was already down playing their parts as hosts.
But Jane continued to sit rigidly on the edge of her bed, dubious
and fretful as she returned the gaze of the stranger reflected in
her mirror.

She had thwarted the hairdressers’
insistence on using plumes of feathers and whole gardens worth of
flowers in her hair. She’d then refused to wear the tall, powdered
wig that Lady Spencer had brought in. As a compromise to everyone,
though, she’d allowed them to gather and arrange her own dark hair,
without powder, so that a few ringlets framed her pale face while
the rest was piled up safely behind.

The hair she could live with, but the
elegant dress that appeared was an ordeal that she hadn’t been
prepared for.

At the same time, she had not been able to
fight wearing it. She could not bring herself to hurt Lady
Spencer’s feelings…not after everything she had already done for
her. From the embroidery on the soft yellow and white silk to the
fitted bodice with its lace and ruching, to the quilted petticoats
with their lace and fringe hem, this was perhaps the most graceful
and beautiful dress Jane had seen, never mind worn. But this high
style hardly helped to ease the tension that coiled inside of
her.

There were people down in the Hall and in
the parlors that she had loathed for all of her life. There were
others whom she had hoped might once again respect her, but who had
never been able to overlook her transgressions. And her family? As
far as any of them knew, Jane wasn’t attending the ball
tonight.

And then there was Nicholas. Her hand
unconsciously traveled to her exposed throat. As she sat and looked
at the ample skin showing above her breasts, Jane realized what she
feared most was his reaction.

There was a soft knock on the door and Jane
rose immediately to her feet. She cast a final glance at the
direction of the mirror that had been brought into her room
earlier. She only wished she could feel some of the reflected
woman’s apparent confidence. It was amazing what some clothes and
powder can hide.

Alexandra’s encouraging smile helped a
little.

“Lovely,” the older woman whispered
confidentially. “It is late, my dear. I do not want you to miss a
moment more of the admiration pouring forth in the Blue Parlor.
Almost everyone has come through at least once already. And some of
the guests have decided not to move an inch until I reveal the
artist’s name. It is most exciting.”

Until they find out it is me
. Jane
didn’t voice her concern and instead quietly accompanied Alexandra
downstairs. Her ankle still hurt dreadfully whenever she put weight
on it, so she tried to take her time. Without asking any questions
about the nature of the injury, Lady Spencer had been very
considerate earlier in the afternoon and she continued to be so
now.

The stairs were agonizing, but as Jane
descended—and as the curious gazes of a few guests who were
mingling in the entrance hall fell on her—she found herself growing
totally numb. When she and Alexandra finally reached the bottom,
Jane was certain that no one had even recognized her, for the faces
continued to be friendly, even admiring.

“The worst is over,” Lady Spencer whispered
softly, touching her on the elbow and nodding toward the parlor and
where a small crowd of people were blocking the doorway, waiting to
enter. “Shall we go in there and stir the pot a little?”

As the two women started past the front
door, though, Jane cringed as a late arriving guest entered and
stepped into their path. Sir Robert Musgrave had no difficulty
recognizing her.

“Miss Jane, I cannot believe my eyes.”

The hush that fell over the bystanders was
immediately followed by urgent whispers. She could almost feel the
news rippling through the parlors and the Hall.

“Sir Robert.” She nodded politely, trying to
mask all traces of hostility in her voice and hide, as well, the
unnerving sense that every eye was now on her.

“Miss Jane, I must say you look absolutely
stunning.” He stepped so near her that his presence encroached upon
the very air she needed to breathe. He lifted her hand to his lips,
but his smile was cold. “I truly approve of your choice of hair
style…and this dress! You are a marvel, I must say. The style is
elegant and the fit is fashionably provocative…within the bounds of
propriety, of course.” He lowered his voice. “So very much like
yourself.”

Jane tried to show nothing under his
predatory gaze.

“I have to admit, though, I find myself
speechless at seeing you attired in something other than that
dreaded black.”

“I find you are not
completely
speechless, sir,” Jane replied matter-of-factly. “Now if you will
forgive us, Lady Spencer and I need to speak with her
daughter.”

“But I cannot let you simply disappear, Miss
Jane. Not until you promise me the pleasure of a dance.”

“I fear, sir, that I can not promise any
such thing.” She looked impatiently past him. “Please forgive us,
but I believe I just saw Miss Spencer pass by the parlor door.”

Stepping around him, Jane nodded politely to
her companion, and the two made their way toward the parlor.

“You have wonderful poise.” Alexandra
whispered a moment later, as Jane sailed past the open stares of
the guests with her head held high. “I am very proud to know
you.”

These last words almost pierced Jane’s
emotional armor, but she fought it off. The throng of people by the
door to the parlor parted, and she followed Alexandra into the
crowded but now silent room.

The canvases she and Lady Spencer had chosen
earlier had been arranged on temporary wooden easels in various
places around the room. Now, however, all gazes were fixed on her
and not on the paintings that had drawn them into the parlor
initially. Jane searched the expressions of the strangers and those
she knew. She saw Henry standing beside Clara by the window. Her
sister’s gaze fell to the carpeted floor, but the minister sent
Jane an encouraging nod. She couldn’t worry about Clara’s reaction
to her arrival now. Frances beamed at her enthusiastically from
across the parlor. Next to her, Jane found the one she’d been
looking for all along. Her heart pounded, and her stomach danced at
the sight of him.

“I cannot be more pleased with this warm
reception…” Lady Spencer began, speaking in a clear voice to
everyone in the room. Jane found she had some difficulty focusing
on her friend’s words, for only Nicholas existed now.

He was impeccably dressed, but Jane thought
he looked tired. He held a glass of port in one hand while he
casually leaned a shoulder against the mantel of the hearth. Even
from this distance, Jane could see the way his eyes studied every
inch of her body from the tip of her shoes to her hair. His
attention was the warmth she’d lacked. She waited until his eyes
finally met hers, but she started at the hurt she saw in them. Hurt
she knew she herself had caused.