The Regency Redgraves: What an Earl Wants / What a Lady Needs / What a Gentleman Desires / What a Hero Dares
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She lifted her head, her eyes dark with tears. “Richard gossips like an old woman,” she said, sighing. “And you’re lying, just like your grandmother.”
“Probably. It would appear to be one of a myriad of unflattering family traits. In all honesty, there are more. Now show me. Please.”
She lowered her legs and shifted her position toward him, turning over her hands to expose her wrists. He saw the scars, a thin line running just below the base of each palm.
“Sweet Jesus.”
Jessica retracted her hands, folding them neatly in her lap. “And now you want the story, don’t you?”
Gideon shook his head. “Not if you don’t want to tell it, no.”
She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to her one way or the other. “My stepmother’s jewelry, most of it, wasn’t where I’d supposed, so what with hiring coaches and booking passage for two of us, the pittance James was forced to take wasn’t going to last long at all. It would seem nobody believed he hadn’t stolen the pieces, and the prices he was offered weren’t nearly as wonderful as he’d hoped.”
“He could have simply left you and gone on off on his own.”
“I suppose. But James had another answer. He was always the one for coming up with new schemes. I was in our room at a small hotel in Brussels. It was early days, the evening of our wedding. He’d explained that he’d compromised me by taking me with him, and he was doing the only honorable thing by marrying me. No, I didn’t know him well, but I’d seen him on the estate several times, and he’d always been polite. At the very least, he was clean. And he had saved me, no matter that he was mostly saving himself.”
Jessica smiled. “I was so young, so stupid. Even grateful. What he said seemed logical. I certainly couldn’t go home to what my father planned for me, could I? Marriage seemed the only answer. James ordered a tub for me after the ceremony, and then a lovely meal brought up to our bridal chamber. I dressed in the new gown he’d bought for me. I was nervous, very much so, but I had made my bed, as my old nurse had been prone to tell me when I’d done something to displease her, and now I was resigned to lie in it. And…and then there was a knock at the door. I opened it, thinking it was James… .”
Gideon suddenly knew where this calmly told story was heading. “That son of a bitch.”
“Yes. That son of a bitch. He entered behind the man and told me what he’d done, what I was supposed to do. He’d sold my virginity, our wedding night. When I understood, I snatched up one of the knives from the table and…I didn’t do it very well. The cuts were fairly shallow, but the blood was enough to send the man scurrying away. At least he never tried to sell me again, for fear I’d succeed in killing myself the next time. He found another use for me.”
“Distracting his fellow gamblers,” Gideon said, “all while you watched the cards, plotting your escape.”
She wiped at her damp cheeks and smiled. She actually smiled. “While pilfering small sums of money from James when he was too drunk to remember how much was in his pockets, and then sitting quietly on the hearth as he slept, using the light from the fire to see while I sewed coins into the hem of my cloak. For too long, I did nothing but cry, and feel sorry for myself and my terrible plight. But I didn’t stay stupid forever, Gideon. I couldn’t afford to, could I? Two hundred and twelve days, that’s how long I was with James. Each one of them an eternity, but each one bringing me closer to freedom. I was all but ready to make my escape, biding my time until we visited a port city again, when Richard came along. My real knight in shining armor.”
“I’m going to settle twenty thousand pounds on him tomorrow. It isn’t enough. There could never be enough.”
Jessica’s smile disappeared as if it had never been, as if the light had never come back into her eyes. “Now you want Richard to sell me?”
“Oh, God. Damn! That wasn’t what I intended. Marry me, Jessica, don’t marry me. Richard still gets the settlement, the two of you get your damn inn or whatever you want. But we want answers, or at least I do, and you want to protect your brother. Become my countess, and you can go into society with me, we can do our own investigating. Trixie is…I don’t know how much she knows, how much she didn’t tell us.”
Jessica got to her feet, smoothed down her gown. “You sensed it, too? For all she said, I think she may have been holding something back. I can understand that. He was her son, after all, and he was a monster.”
“A monster, yes. Playing a very dangerous game.” Gideon rose, as well. “So she seemed frightened to you, as well, handing out her warnings about your brother? Trixie isn’t the sort to be frightened.”
“It wouldn’t be natural if she wasn’t frightened. People are dying, Gideon, people who knew the sort of things she knows. She says no one would dare touch her—but can she be sure?”
“Can any of us be sure of anything? We also have to consider Adam. You’d be with him, residing under the same strong, well-guarded roof. He’s young, Jessica, just as you were young. But not nearly so strong as his sister. If they’re keeping to the devil’s thirteen, your father’s vacant seat needs to be filled. Adam could be approached, you said so yourself.”
“I know what I said, you needn’t keep beating me over the head with my own words, you know.” She seemed to search his face with her eyes, as if hunting some escape route. “There’s no other way to go about it?”
He had her on the ropes now, he could see it. He was a Redgrave, so he would push his advantage. And, yes, please God, he would sleep nights.
“I’m the Earl of Saltwood. I have a reputation, God help me, but at times it serves me well. My countess will be accepted everywhere. Nobody would dare to deny you. If our murderer is in society, we need to be there, as well. I haven’t stepped inside Almacks in years, nor do I usually attend every damn ball and rout and picnic that litters the Season. But with a fiancée, a new bride on my arm? I’d be expected to make all the rounds. Invitations from the curious will pile up on my mantelpiece like snow. Perhaps several from members of the Society, anxious to see Linden’s widow. We won’t have to search them out, Jessica, they’ll come to us. I pride myself on being observant, but you’ve the better of me there, I’m convinced of that. And then there are the widows, the wives. It should be easier going for you to gain their confidence than me. It’s all logical.”
“Logical. I suppose so. But I don’t want to marry you. I vowed never to marry again. A woman has no power beyond the will of her husband.”
“No power?” He touched a hand to her cheek and kept it there. When he spoke again, his tone was soft, perhaps even tender. “You sincerely don’t know, do you? How beautiful you are, how desirable, what an extraordinarily strong, brave and special woman you’ve made of yourself against all odds. You have no idea how you can figuratively take me to the floor just by looking at me. I’m not going to go down on one knee to profess some undying love for you. You’re too intelligent to swallow such a bag of moonshine. In part I’m attempting to pay a debt my family owes you, thanks indirectly to the actions of my father and grandfather. I’m attempting to soothe my own conscience for what happened here the other night. I admit that freely also. But know this, as well, Jessica soonnever-again-to-be-Linden, I would never, never intentionally hurt you.”
A single tear ran down her cheek, burning his skin.
“You’re a fool, Gideon Redgrave, and arrogant into the bargain. Nobody can save the world, you know, not even you. Yes, all right, I see the wisdom in marrying you.”
Gideon covered his relief with a chuckle. “My sister has said the Redgraves are the least romantical people in all of England. You’ll fit in very well. Now, to seal the betrothal?”
He leaned in and kissed her. On the cheek. Bloody hell, on the cheek.
But that was now. He could scarcely have heard what she and Richard had told him this past hour and dare to attempt anything more. The ancient Greek was right: timing is in all things the most important factor. He’d had her beneath him, he’d felt her first stirrings of fire; he could awaken her even more, teach her pleasure she could still not possibly imagine. He knew what awaited him, awaited them both, if he was patient, and he was very good at being patient.
He left her where she stood and strode into her bedchamber, returning moments later with James Linden’s wadded-up banyan clutched in one angry fist. “This doesn’t come to Portman Square with you,” he said, holding it aloft as he headed for the stairs.
He didn’t look back, but he hoped she was smiling… .
CHAPTER NINE
“I SUPPOSE IT WILL DO,” Adam Collier said, sighing disappointedly as he made his way around Jessica, taking a full circuit in his red-heeled shoes, quizzing glass stuck to his eye. “But perhaps too crushingly ordinary? I mean, really—lavender? Must we?” He waved the glass at the hovering modiste. “Bows. That’s what’s needed. At the hem, on those capped sleeves. Yes, that’s the very thing. I’m never wrong. See to it, woman.”
Jessica rolled her eyes as she looked into the mirror at her reflection. “Bows, Adam? We’re in mourning, remember? By rights, I shouldn’t be going into society at all. You may escape with that ridiculous black band, but I can hardly pretend Papa and Clarissa aren’t barely in their graves. Even if he did publicly disown me for eloping with James.”
“I had that wrong, didn’t I? You didn’t eat bad fish, you married it.” Adam shrugged eloquently in his tightly fitted swan tailcoat. “I was young, and not told much of anything. Your name simply wasn’t to be mentioned again. Mama explained that, though.”
“Oh? And how did that explanation go, precisely?”
“It pained Papa to think of you, of course.” Adam snatched up one of the hastily constructed bows made up of the same lavender silk and held it to the center of Jessica’s bodice. “No, not there. Yes, just as I first thought, on the sleeves, and then a dozen more, dancing about the hem. And perhaps dusted with something sparkling? I do adore sparkles. A pity we men can’t embellish ourselves with brilliance. Although Papa used to sprinkle glittering dust in with the powder for his wig on special occasions, as I recall it. Vain man, our father, and he would persist in clinging to his periwig even after the fashion so clearly changed. He should have seen himself after the fire. No amount of glitter could have been any help to him then, hmm?”
“Adam!” Jessica pulled him closer, ignoring his near shriek of alarm as she wrinkled his neck cloth in her fist. “Take a moment to think where we are,” she whispered in warning. “Someone could overhear you. Imagine Gideon’s reaction.”
Adam carefully disengaged himself from her grip, then anxiously fluffed at the lacy cravat. “I’d rather not, thank you. I’d rather not think about him at all. Are you quite sure you want to bracket yourself to my brute of a guardian? He won’t let either one of us take two steps in any direction on our own. His dogs drool, and he dresses with no imagination whatsoever. Black and white. Blue and tan. Black and white again. I imagine he will expire of ennui within the year. No sense of style. None. Did I mention his dogs drool? And leave their hair everywhere, to be caught up on my rig-outs? I don’t know how I put up with it, truly I don’t. As it is, my valet must follow me around with a brush…and a sponge.”
“If you’re quite finished, Adam?” Jessica said as the modiste pinned the last bow to her hem. “Thank you, Marie, that’s much better. My brother may have a future in designing women’s gowns.”
Adam brightened at this suggestion. “One can only hope so. Only those with a keen eye for such things are invited to witness a woman’s toilette, you know. And once in the proximity of the bedchamber, a clever fellow can make further inroads.”
“More clever than attempting to inroad Mildred in a cupboard, I would hope.”
Adam gave a wave of his hand, the lace-edged handkerchief perpetually clutched in his paw giving off a whiff of rather cloying scent. “I should ask the woman just who was the instigator of that aborted tryst, were I you. She offered to further my education. I knew what that meant, let me tell you! Demmed inconvenient of you to discover us just as she was being so clever about unbuttoning my breeches. Strong teeth, the woman has. We did, however, reconvene later, and it would appear Mildred is a creature of her word, for it was an education I received. Oh, my, yes.”
“Adam, for the love of God…”
“Yes, yes, for the love of somebody, I’m sure,” he said offhandedly. “For Mildred, however, it was a half crown and my most sincere thanks. I’ll turn my back again now, so that the lavender disappears, which may not please God but will thrill me beyond measure. What else were you so silly as to order without first consulting me?”
“I only ordered a few things,” she told him. “Gideon insisted upon taking care of the rest after I was measured, while I had tea and cakes in a small guest parlor. It’s his money, so that seemed only proper. Besides, I don’t know the current fashions.”
“Does that explain the lavender, or was it his choice?”
“Mine, if you must know,” she admitted, feeling rather put upon.
“And again we give thanks, and good on Gideon,” Adam said. “If I were to have to witness the unveiling of an entire wardrobe of the incredible dullness you consider proper, sister mine, I would wonder what terrible sin I’ve committed to be punished so. But good old Gideon has had the dressing and undressing of literally dozens of women, I would suppose, so he may have developed an eye for what best flatters the female form.”
“You say the most delightful things, Adam,” Jessica told him as Marie looked at her in some compassion before bustling out of the room.
“I do? Oh, that wasn’t a compliment, was it? How gauche of me. My apologies, I’m sure. But think on it, Jessica, the man’s dead old, so he has to have had his share. I’m just eighteen, and I’ve already bedded eight—no, Mildred wasn’t an actual bedding, now that I think on it, but more of a footnote—so, seven different females already this year. A dozen last year, and the year before, ten, I believe. I keep a journal, you see, so I can check if you should want me to total them up for you. All my conquests are captured there in detail, names, dates, number and level of encounters and the form each took. In the event I decide to one day pen my memoirs, you understand. Papa suggested it and reviewed it every year, making suggestions as to how I could improve. But to continue, the year before that—”
Jessica looked to the curtained doorway, relieved to see Marie wasn’t already heading back into the fitting room with another gown. “The year before that you were fifteen!”
He shot her a look over his shoulder. “Yes, I was. For my birthday, Papa took me to the Duck and Grapes and sent me upstairs with two of the barmaids, to make a man of me, he said. Two, Jessica! Conquest is what a man is all about, and he would be sure to make me a man. Each birthday, a new delight was in store for me. The passions of the flesh feed the passions of the mind, so that it’s imperative for a man with aspirations of greatness to dine, as it were, with regularity, et cetera, ad nauseam. It’s our duty to fornicate with as many women as possible. That’s what Papa told me, all but drummed into my head.”
He laughed. Perhaps giggled. “I just wanted the women, you understand, so I humored him. Mama, bless her, encouraged me, as well. I was surrounded by comely housemaids, handpicked by her. Adventuresome sorts, and eager to please. Isn’t it grand to live in such a free and open society?”
Halfway through these astounding revelations, Jessica’s mouth had dropped open, and she stared at her brother’s back, unable to tell him to stop. This was what she’d wanted to hear, although had dreaded the hearing, had still not found a way to broach the subject with him. But now he was volunteering it all, and without shame, even without pride, thank God. But did he have to pick this place, this moment?
“Although I didn’t much care for the lessons.”
“Lessons?” Jessica squeaked, horrified.
“Yes, I had Papa as a tutor, over and above my schooling. Why did I need to read all these treatises on history and politics and such? That Machiavelli chap? Now there was a queer duck, let me tell you! And others. Lets see. There was Marat, Robespierre, Thomas Becket. Caligula—now he was interesting! More, but I forget them. All assassinated, you know, for the good of others who wanted to take their places or rid themselves of an opponent. I forget most of it, how each one died. But I do know how many times Julius Caesar was stabbed by his small swarm of enemies, if you’d care to learn? Twenty-three! The trick to it was that no one could actually say for certain which thrust of which blade did the actual deed. Clever, don’t you think?”
Jessica’s heart was pounding as she tried desperately not to sound shocked and repulsed to her toes. Wait until she told Gideon about this! “I suppose so. We’ll talk more about this later, Adam, if you don’t mind.”
He shrugged, still with his back to her. “Certainly. Time and place, Jessica, time and place. I have no idea why you wanted to talk about it now.”
“Why I— Adam, you’re a noodle, do you know that? An absolute noodle.” And then she said a silent thank you to God that he was.
“Now you sound like Papa. If I had a penny piece for each time he despaired of me as useless…” he complained without much heat. He extracted a snuffbox from his waistcoat and proceeded to take a dip, and then sneezed several times into his handkerchief with some enthusiasm.
Marie bustled back into the room as the last sneeze faded and Jessica bent at the knees so that the modiste could lift the lavender gown up and over her head, leaving her in her new undergarments.
At Gideon’s express orders, each and every piece had been lined with silk, and the corset she wore at the moment, cut low straight across her breasts, was such a beautiful confection of white lace and pink lacing ribbons that secured in front, so that she had control over how tightly they were tugged, that she felt enhanced rather than trapped inside the thing. Beneath it were her wonderful French drawers, and the petticoat tied at her waist assured her she could move freely in sunlight or candlelight without fear her body would be immodestly outlined.
She lifted her hands to cup the undersides of her breasts, thinking she looked rather wonderful in these glorious new garments. It seemed almost a pity to cover them.
“And another thing—Ah, I shouldn’t have turned around, should I?” Adam said. “I suppose I’ll wait somewhere else until you call me back?” He pointed to the curtained doorway leading out into the shop.
“Yes, that seems a good idea,” Jessica told him as she quickly crossed her arms over her bosom, happy to see that at least her brother had enough sense to finally be put to the blush. Honestly, was there anything he wouldn’t say?
Marie indicated she should remove her corset, and, while still thinking about everything Adam had told her, she complied, before Marie helped her out of the slip. She shivered slightly in her near nakedness, hoping Adam didn’t decide to poke his head back into the fitting room to tell her something else she wished she didn’t need to know.
Getting to know her half brother this past week and more as he was, rather than to continue imagining him as the shy child she remembered, had been an education for her. He really was quite adorable. Rather like a puppy, she’d remarked to Gideon, who’d agreed, saying you were sometimes tempted to scratch him behind the ears, but all while keeping aware that in his excitement he may at any moment piddle on the carpet.
Gideon. Jessica tried very hard not to think about him at all. Since that was impossible, she’d done her best to avoid him as he went about doing whatever it is earls do, the two of them meeting most often at the dinner table, as she breakfasted in her rooms and he was rarely in Portman Square in time for luncheon.
Having Adam and Richard at table with them every night was not conducive to anything more than polite conversation. Gideon would then take himself off again, making the rounds of several parties, paving the way, he said, for their appearance as an affianced couple or, better yet, husband and wife, if he could convince the archbishop to issue a Special License before the necessary three weeks to call the banns.
As he was clearly chafing against waiting out the days, he’d teased just yesterday that he was tempted to soon sic Trixie on the man, who wasn’t immune to her charms. Jessica had asked him how he would know that, but then had tactfully withdrawn the question.
He did accompany her to Bond Street on three separate occasions, but then he was so busy autocratically ordering gloves and footwear and bonnets and gowns that she had found herself retreating into a more comfortable place in her mind, where she could pretend she wasn’t being dressed up for a reason that had less to do with a fiancé gifting his betrothed with wedding clothes than it did with tricking her out for show, just as James had done.
She didn’t believe Gideon saw it that way, but she couldn’t quite help herself sometimes, when the past seemed to intrude on the present.
In any event, what with one thing or the other, they had seemed to communicate for the most part by way of notes.
The announcement will appear in all the morning newspapers tomorrow. Richard is explained as a maternal uncle. Too late now for second thoughts, my dear, for either of us. G.
The dowager countess sends her blessing, pointing out her grandson neglected to petition for it, and alluding to the possibility you may have been raised by wild wolves. I don’t believe she has considered how this reflects on her. Or perhaps she has, and this was a warning. When it comes to your grandmother, I may overthink matters. J.
I’ve attempted to speak to your brother, but gave it up as a bad job before I could be tempted to throttle him. Suffice it to say Seth will be attached to his hip whenever he leaves the house. Thorny tells me you took the air in the Square this morning. With the brisk breeze, I look forward to some flattering color in your cheeks tonight at table. Are you quite certain Adam wouldn’t care for Jamaica? G.
I will assume you are being polite in your distance, but would appreciate some direction as to how to deal with these invitations written to my name. J.
Redgraves don’t respond on command. We either grace curious hostesses with our presence, or we don’t. Burn them. We aren’t ready. Don’t forget your fitting at two, on Thursday. I shan’t be available. Take the puppy, but beware scratching behind his ears. G.
I was told you do not care for green beans. I was then careful to order them for tonight’s dinner. J.
Ha! Prepare for fish chowder at tomorrow’s luncheon table. A pity I will be busy with my tailor. G.
The fish chowder was well received in the servant dining hall. Do you ever plan to spend an evening in Portman Square? J.
You are sometimes even more beautiful in sleep. I look forward to the day I’m blessed to observe you in slumber at my leisure, and then kiss you awake. G.
THAT NOTE HAD APPEARED just this morning, on her pillow, after she had so let down her guard as to show she missed him. What a sly one he was. The less she saw him, the more she wanted to see him. The more politely he treated her, the more she wanted him to be the man she remembered, the man who had fisted his hand in her hair and brought his mouth down hard against hers, the man who had lifted her in his arms and carried her to her bed.