The Rebel (30 page)

“A change of plans. Sorry…”

Frowning, Nicholas cast a side glance at
her. There were unshed tears shining in her dark eyes. He brushed
the back of his hand gently against hers. She recoiled from his
touch and stepped aside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing is wrong.” She shook her head and
turned her face away.

With the exception of the lad waiting by the
carriage, no one else could be seen around the carriage house. The
fellow took the basket from Jane and placed it securely on the
seat. She asked him to lead the vehicle to the drive beyond the
paddock, and Nicholas placed a hand on her arm as the carriage
rolled away. “Can we talk?”

“I fear I haven’t the time right now.”

“This won’t take long.”

“I said I haven’t the time.” She tried to
shake off his touch, but he only tightened his hold. Sharp temper
flashed in her eyes. “
Let me go
.”

“Not until you give me a moment of your
time.”

“I shall see you in hell before I allow you
or anyone else to bully me.”

He’d have been ready if she pulled her
dagger on him again, but he wasn’t prepared for the solid punch
that she delivered to his midriff. Hiding his momentarily inability
to breathe, he flashed a broad smile at Jane, who was flexing her
fist in obvious discomfort.

“Is that the best you can do?”

“It is not.”

He saw the next barrage coming. As her
temper exploded, a flurry of kicks and punches erupted. Knowing his
best chance of avoiding injury was to attack, Nicholas moved
quickly forward, managing to pin her arms to her sides and lift her
off the ground. He moved briskly into the carriage house.

“You let me go, you…you boor…you
blackguard.” Writhing like a snake, she fought him every step. “I
am going to cut you into a thousand pieces. I’m going to gut you
like a hare and feed your heart to my dogs.”

“This is such an improvement over the first
time we met, Jane.” Nicholas smiled, holding her tightly against
one of the stalls to minimize the damage she could be inflicting on
him. “But perhaps not, considering I could only understand about
half of the curses you were hurling at me in Gaelic that day.”

“No one gets away with what you…”

His mouth captured hers, and he felt the
vibrations of her next complaint fade to a murmur as he deepened
the kiss. Her half-hearted struggles against him lasted only a
moment longer, and Nicholas tried to control his own body’s urge to
make love to her here…now. The moment she melted against him, he
felt his surging desires flare up, nearly overwhelming him. Images
flashed through his mind of her soft flesh this morning, moist and
alive, welcoming him. He pressed into her, relishing the feel of
her mouth and body, eager to receive him.

His body held hers tightly against the wall,
his hands feeling beneath the cloak. Her breasts were firm through
the dress, and her hands were pulling at him with growing ardor,
drawing him close. And then she stopped.

The salty taste of her tears mixed with the
kiss, and he tore his mouth away. Through the haze of his passion,
he saw her closed eyes and the crystal droplets rolling down her
cheeks.

“Jane,” he whispered against her lips.
“Jane, talk to me. What happened this morning before I came to the
Morning Room?”

She turned her face away, but he took hold
of her chin and drew it back. She opened her eyes, and he found
himself drowning in the sadness he could see there.

“You should have…accepted Clara’s offer…”
she managed to get out. “You should be…be spending time…with her
and not…not with me.”

He paused for a moment, stunned by his own
blindness. Of course she would be upset at the constant thrusting
of her sister upon him. But nothing had changed.

“There is nothing between Clara and me,
Jane.
Nothing
.”

“She invited you and…”

“Must I accept every invitation extended to
me? Do
you
acquiesce to every request for your time?”

She shook her head. “But this is different.
You see…I…I let myself become…become interested…because I thought
Clara was not.”

“Did I never have any say in this?” He tried
to keep his tone light. “I have told you before. I never pursued
her. My interest has only been in
you
since arriving
here.”

“’It is not that. My own reaction is what
appalls me now.” Fresh tears escaped. “No matter…whom you might
have been interested in…I would never have allowed myself…to
become…entangled with you if I knew my sister had the slightest
interest…or hope. It was…is wrong of me…to be near you…to spend
time with you…to become tempted.”

Thousands of arguments formed in Nicholas’s
head, though expressions such as “
Who
cares
if Clara
is interested!” were burning on his tongue. He felt his frustration
and anger growing. The younger sister had everything that she could
possibly wish for in life—parents who doted on her, wealth enough
to guarantee an excellent marriage, beauty and a well hidden
intellect that wouldn’t intimidate many potential husbands among
the gentility. Nicholas wanted to shake Jane and wake her up. Her
concern for her sister was needless. Instead, she needed to look
inside and see what
she
wanted from life. But Nicholas
already knew this kind of talk would only push Jane farther away
from him.

He looked deeply into her eyes. “I have been
involved with enough women to know that Clara’s apparent interest
this morning was all a show. There is no substance in this sudden
attraction to me.”

As Jane shook her head and turned her face
away, he again captured her chin and forced her to look up at him.
“Can you not see she was acting for the benefit of your parents?
She is trying to be a good daughter and show them…especially your
father, I think…that she is doing her part to win me over. I know
what the purpose of this ball is this Friday night. I not blind to
the expense and trouble they are going through. And it is all for
the sole purpose of getting my head spinning enough to change my
mind and ask for Clara’s hand in marriage.”

“She seems to want it now, too.”

“She does
not
,” he corrected harshly.
“If no one else were about this morning, she would never have even
stayed behind to keep my company. In so many words, she has already
told me that I am too old for her. She appears intimidated by me.
Frightened even, at times. What kind of marriage would this
be?”

“A genteel English marriage?”

Angry, he pushed himself away from her. “I
am
not
willing to waste my life with the likes of Clara. I
know of dozens upon dozens like her in England. Why should I have
her when I have already met someone else who suits me so much
better? Someone who has a heart and a soul that I already hold
dear.” He took a few steps away, but then whirled around. “True, a
few months ago I stood in the snow in London and thought that
almost anyone with a pleasing look and reasonable fortune would
do…but no longer do I think in so limited a way. No, Jane. I will
not accept just anyone…and I refuse to be manipulated by your
parents.”

Nicholas stormed toward the door of the
carriage house. By ’sblood, he loved the damn woman! But admitting
it…but saying those words to her…would accomplish nothing until she
could shed her blinders and begin to see
him
.

“I would…” The brush of her fingers against
his brought him to an abrupt halt by the doorway. Her voice was
soft and tentative. “I very much like you…to come with me this
morning.”

“Do we ride separately or together?”

He saw the struggle play out on her face as
she looked out the door. When her gaze came back to his face, her
eyes were decided.

“Together.”

***

It was mid-morning before Alexandra caught
Fey alone and lacking the troop of servants who were always
swarming around her. The visitor immediately seized the opportunity
and walked into the Blue Parlor, closing the door partially behind
her. The housekeeper glanced up from her inspection of the
fireplace.

“Lady Spencer, may I help ye with
anything?”

“Yes, you may.” Alexandra smiled
encouragingly and moved closer to the redheaded woman so their
voices would not be inadvertently overheard by someone passing in
the hallway. “Was it my imagination, Fey, or has Lady Purefoy
arranged for a dressmaker to be staying at Woodfield House this
week?”

“Indeed she has, m’lady. The woman has been
brought in from Cork City. She is a very capable seamstress, too, I
must say.”

Alexandra moved closer. “How attentive of
Lady Purefoy always to be thinking of her daughters. I assume she
is here to make ball dresses for Clara and Jane?”

“Only Miss Clara,” Fey put in shortly,
turning to brush an invisible speck of dust from a clock on the
mantle.

“But why not Jane, as well? I can see that
she favors the color black, but surely for something as grand as
what is planned, Lady Purefoy would want her elder daughter to be
dressed in the height of fashion.”

“I do not believe Miss Jane has a place in
the mistress’s plans for the evening.”

“Her plans or her hopes?”

Alexandra’s whispered question drew the
housekeeper’s intelligent gaze. A moment of silence preceded the
woman’s answer. “’Tis not my place to suppose I could know the
mistress’s thinking. ‘Tis not my job to meddle, either, m’lady.
However, if there is something I can do for ye…?”

Lady Spencer idly picked up a book lying on
a table by Clara’s customary seat.
Sternwood’s Sermons
.
Dreadful, she thought, laying it back down. She could understand
Fey’s answer perfectly. She could also sense the frustration just
beneath the surface of her words. She looked up to see Fey was
waiting with an expression of subdued hope on her face.

“Indeed there is, Fey. You must have a good
idea of how much work Lady Purefoy has given this woman—this
dressmaker—for this week. Now do you think if I wished to have
something made…say, a dress…could the woman manage it?”

“Would this be for…someone we both know,
m’lady?”

“It would, indeed.”

“I should have to ask her, m’lady,” Fey
replied excitedly. “But I think she could do it. But there is a
matter of fabric and accessories that would need to be attended
to…”

“I believe my daughter Frances and I will be
making a quick trip to Cork City this afternoon to shop for exactly
those same things.” Alexandra moved closer to the housekeeper again
and lowered her voice. “Now, do you think this dressmaker might be
clever enough if I were to work with her…and tell her exactly what
it is that I am looking for?”

“Aye, ma’am. I think she might.”

“Of course, this dress I have in mind would
not be able to tried on for size until it is done.

“I’ve a lass working in the kitchens who
might suit ye for size, m’lady.

“Excellent. And of course, I’ll make it
worthwhile for the dressmaker…beyond whatever Lady Purefoy is
paying her.”

“She is a working woman. I believe she will
do as ye tell her.”

“Very well.” Alexandra beamed, turning to
go. “You have a talk with her, and I shall return this evening with
all she shall need.”

“Is there something, m’lady…?” Fey’s
question stopped her. “Is there anything more you might be needing
from me?”

“In fact, there is.” She gauged the woman’s
expression for a long moment. “I was hoping you would keep this
little discussion just between us.”

Fey nodded, the trace of a smile on the
housekeeper’s lips. “If you insist, m’lady.”

“Perfect.” Lady Spencer smiled broadly and
started for the door. There was nothing like a little surprise to
brighten up a grand ball, and she was determined to make this
surprise—and this ball—the brightest and the grandest these people
had ever seen.

***

Rita waited until Mrs. Brown, following a
serving girl carrying an empty tray, had left the room before she
clasped one of Jane’s hands to her lips.

“God bless ye, miss,” she whispered, sinking
to her knees. “Lord knows, I cannot think of any words good enough
to use in thanking ye.”

Jane pulled the young woman to her feet. She
led her to the two chairs by the window and sat her beside her.
“You deserve far more, Rita, after the hardship you have all been
through.” She glanced at Bowie, pale and weak. There was reason
enough to be happy. His fever had broken, and he now looked down at
his siblings playing on the floor beside the bed. “And I am hoping
things will improve a little from here on. Parson Adams told me
this morning that he has offered you a cottage that is vacant in
the village here.”

“Aye, that he has.” Fresh tears rolled down
the mother’s cheeks. “’Twill be a blessing to have a roof over our
head again. And with everything ye brought us this morning, we’ll
be living grander than when my Seamus was with us.”

“I am sorry, Rita. I know nothing will
replace him. But the way you all had to run from your own place, I
thought you might be needing these things.”

The young woman nodded and wiped at her
tears. “Ye have a generous heart, Egan.” Her voice was hushed. “And
a brave one.”

Jane held on to Rita’s fingers.

“Ye know, long before I met ye, I would hear
these wild tales of Egan. The little fire, the elders called ye.”
She gave her a teary smile. “Egan could fly over the mountains,
they’d say. Egan could walk through fire…ye could vanish in the
bright of noonday. But Egan always arrives in time, when a mother
cried out in the dead of night.” She blushed slightly. “To be
truthful, I never paid much heed to what was being said, for I know
the way of us Irish. We need wondrous tales to help us get through
the suffering of our daily lives.”