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  Surely, it would be easier just to ride away and forget he’d ever met this woman, he thought. But he couldn’t. The old Nicholas could have done just that and never looked back. But the new Nicholas Spencer—the one already far too consumed by Miss Jane Purefoy—could not.

  “Where is she now?”

  “In the library. The musicians have packed their instruments and trotted off for their supper in the servants’ hall. I should think the house will be empty in another hour. Lady Purefoy is still bustling about, of course, trying to put a good face on everything and looking foolish for her efforts. But the girls and Jane are waiting in the library for Sir Thomas and the parson to end their discussion.”

  ***

  Clara was consumed by the darkness outside the window. Frances was pretending that she was deeply involved in a book she had open on her lap, though she hadn’t turned the page for quite some time. Lady Purefoy barked more orders at the servants and returned to sit heavily on the sofa. Her agitated fingers opened and closed the delicate fan she was holding.

  Jane immediately stood up when she saw Nicholas enter with Lady Spencer. Without any regard for her mother’s disapproving glare, she had managed to get half way to him when Henry Adams and Sir Thomas appeared in the doorway.

  Everyone stared at the two men.

  Henry’s expression was guarded as he cast a brief glance at Jane before focusing his gaze on Clara. Sir Thomas headed directly to a side cabinet holding a bottle of port and glasses. He poured himself a full glass and gestured an offer to the other men. Both declined. He downed the wine and poured himself another before turning to Jane and addressing the group.

  “The Reverend Henry Adams has asked for Jane’s hand in marriage.”

  The very breath was caught in Jane’s chest at the announcement. She turned in confusion toward Nicholas, still standing by the door, and saw the flash of anger, hurt, betrayal even as he returned her gaze. Tears pooled in Jane’s eyes, and she shook her head helplessly. Henry was still staring at Clara. The younger sister’s face had fully turned toward the window.

  “What wonderful news!” Lady Purefoy piped up, breaking the heavy silence. “Reverend Adams and Jane…who would have thought it? But considering what was said tonight…and Parson Adams’s excellent reputation…it makes perfect sense.” The fan opened with a snap of her fingers, and she waved it before her face. “Actually, it will be seen as a most loyal and generous act. Absolutely the thing to do…saving our Jane from her shocking past.”

  “From the warm reception your daughter received tonight—before the good parson saved her—I would have hoped that you’d realize that Jane is a prize in her own right.”

  Alexandra’s sharp retort in her defense made the tears fall for the first time onto Jane’s cheeks. Nicholas was glaring at Henry fiercely enough to cut him to pieces.

  “Oh, we knew all along Jane had some talent.” Catherine waved her fan dismissively in the air. “But a good brush stroke does not arrange a good marriage or hide the scandal of one’s past.”

  “Naturally, we disagree there, too, Lady Purefoy,” Alexandra persisted. “It is generally the support of one’s family toward its members—or the lack of it—that sets the limits to how others in their set behave openly in most situations.”

  “Not that this concerns you, given your son’s lack of interest in Clara, but I did not push Jane into the arms of any papist cur. She did the damage. She can bear its consequences.”

  “None of us, I am sure, is completely without some youthful indiscretion in our personal history,” Lady Spencer said mockingly. “And I wonder what would have happened to us if we all were blessed with such righteous and unforgiving parents as she.”

  “There is no point in this.” Catherine closed her fan with a snap. “The announcements will be sent to the papers tomorrow. We shall set a date for no later than a month, though if we could arrange it sooner, so much the better. If you have no objections, Parson, we shall simply send notices of the wedding to our family from England and your older brother and…”

  “What do you think of this, Jane?”

  Sir Thomas’s gruff question was so abrupt and out of character for him that Catherine continued to speak a few more words before realizing her husband had asked the question. Jane was fairly astonished, too. She could not remember the last time her father had directly addressed her.

  “I…I believe we all are jumping at shadows.” Jane quickly found her voice. She turned to Henry first. “I am honored and touched by your offer. But I am greatly distressed, as you and I both know there has never been anything that might be construed as improper between us. Ever. You spoke before the magistrate tonight to protect me from certain accusations. However, there is no reason for us to act rashly and thereby encourage any wrongheaded notions by those who were here tonight.”

  Jane turned to her mother. “Henry and I have spent many days together since childhood. In the recent years—and since his installation at the parsonage—I have spent many nights, as well, at Ballyclough as a guest of his and Mrs. Brown’s. As we speak, these good people are assisting a widowed friend and her children. There are justifiable reasons for me to be staying at the parsonage. If you were to take the time and explain the situation that way, there should be no reason for Henry’s reputation to be tainted or linked in any way with mine.”

  “But Jane, that is an excellent offer! No matter how everything might be explained.”

  “An excellent offer for whom?” Jane lashed out at her mother. “Shall we punish Henry for being noble and wanting to do the honorable thing for me? Shall I marry him against my will and, in so doing, rob him of any chance of future happiness with a woman who could be deserving of him? I believe the only one who will benefit from this excellent offer of marriage is you, Mother…for you shall finally be rid of me.”

  “Sir Thomas,” Catherine turned pleading eyes on her husband. “Tell her she must marry.”

  The ex-magistrate did not say a word, but his dark gaze locked on his daughter’s face. Jane was surprised to find herself capable of looking into the man’s eyes without the hostility of a lifetime clouding her vision. She found him different from the man she knew him to be. Something unexplainable had penetrated the layers of harshness and arrogance. She answered his unspoken question.

  “I should like to wait and let the rumors fade.” Jane turned to Henry and smiled gratefully at him. “You understand.”

  He nodded.

  Before anyone could move or say anything more, Alexandra spoke out. “Perhaps distance, as well as time, can be of assistance in this situation.”

  She paused and then turned her attention to Catherine. “What would you say, Lady Purefoy, if I were to take your two daughters with me to England on a holiday for a few weeks or so. Perhaps, during their absence, explanations can be circulated and rumor will die a natural death. More importantly, however, they will get a chance to become better acquainted with my family.”

  “Oh!” The suggestion clearly startled the hostess. “Do you mean Sir Nicholas would be accompanying you back to England, as well?”

  Alexandra received a nod from her son. “Of course. Nicholas and Frances will both come back with us. And I shall even arrange that we all escort them back to Ireland in a month or so.”

  The suggestion brought immediate life to Lady Purefoy’s demeanor. Jane and everyone else could plainly see that the woman’s delight centered on the prospect of Clara and Nicholas spending time together. But Jane was too drained to worry about any of this now. She had avoided one disaster with Henry, now she had a short holiday left to convince Nicholas that—even though she loved him—he had to accept that there could never be a chance of a future between them.

  “Sir Thomas,” Catherine called jubilantly to her husband. “What do you think of Lady Spencer’s brilliant idea?”

  The ex-magistrate gave a curt nod. “I agree. Jane needs to be away from this blasted Ireland.”

  CHAPTER 27

&n
bsp; Seated in the spacious library of his Berkeley Square townhouse, the Earl of Stanmore watched with a great deal of interest and curiosity as his best friend raged as he paced back and forth across the room. He had never seen Nicholas like this.

  Very interesting, indeed, he thought, hiding a smile.

  Stanmore had already pieced together that his friend had sailed from Cork City on Sunday, arrived in Broad Quay in Bristol the same night, and had ridden all day yesterday to arrive in London late last night. And already this morning, Nicholas had tracked down the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, who happened to be in London en route to a shooting party in Yorkshire.

  Stanmore glanced at his pocket watch. It was barely ten o’clock in the morning, and Nicholas seemed to have the rest of the day filled with meetings with Crown officials and who knew what else! By the devil, he’d never known Nicholas to rise before noon, unless it was for some sporting reason.

  “Stanmore, you know I have never been in the habit of asking favors of my friends. But this time I am making an exception.” Nicholas came to an abrupt stop before the earl’s desk. “Meet with him at noon. Stress everything I have told you. It is essential that something be done about Musgrave before he does some irrevocable damage.”

  “But you have already told me that the man was very sympathetic to your concerns and promised to look into it.”

  “Perhaps he will, but I cannot afford the matter to be put off. It is crucial for him to act immediately. In hearing it from you, one of the distinguished members of the House of the Lords, in addition to hearing it from the Surveyor of the Navy…”

  “Blast, Nicholas! Have you already been to Nathaniel Yorke’s house, as well, this morning?”

  “Of course not! I went there last night.” He planted his hands on the earl’s desk. “This is very important to me, Stanmore. More so than you can ever imagine!”

  The chiseled features of the earl reflected his genuine interest as he leaned back in the chair.

  “Who is she?”

  ***

  Clara had not weathered the rough journey from Ireland very well, and as a result of staying beside her sister, Jane had seen very little of Nicholas during their trip. Even those few glimpses, however, had been better than his disappearance soon after their ship tied up in Bristol. Nonetheless, she could not bring herself to ask his mother or sister about his whereabouts or his expected return.

  Curiously, after spending the night in an inn at quayside in the port town, Lady Spencer had developed a keen interest to visit an “ancient” friend in Bath. As they breakfasted, she’d mentioned that a visit to the nearby resort city would also have its advantages for Clara, who could spend a couple of days recovering there before they hired a carriage for London.

  And then, for some inexplicable reason or other, Frances was extremely impatient to get back to London. So after a short discussion, it was agreed that Jane would accompany the younger woman to London and Lady Spencer would follow in a few days with Clara.

  During the trip, which had been broken up into comfortable stages over two days, Frances had spoken ceaselessly, telling Jane everything about the school she had been attending in Brussels to her excitement over settling into a girls school in England. She’d also made certain to drop Nicholas’s name in at least every other sentence, singing his praises in a way that Jane knew only a sister trying her hand at the matchmaking for her brother could do. Jane had been touched by the attempt, knowing all the while that there was not a thing she could say or do to make Frances understand how unlikely such a union could be.

  That would be a conversation for Jane and Nicholas alone, and until then, she would keep her sorrows to herself.

  In the afternoon of the second day, Frances stirred from the nap she’d been taking as the escalating city noises announced the arrival of coach in London. She gave Jane a sleepy-eyed smile and stretched. Once again, Jane was overwhelmed by the young woman’s beauty and innocence…and her strong resemblance to Nicholas. She had been trying so hard not to dwell on the talk that the two of them had to have. There had not been an opportunity to explain anything to him since the day she’d fled Woodfield House in the early hours of morning. Their last moments alone together had been spent making love on the small cot in her work area.

  Not a bad memory, Jane thought, quickly blinking back tears and lifting the shade to look out onto the busy streets.

  “I cannot believe what good time we made,” Frances said excitedly, moving to the seat facing Jane and looking out, as well. “Perhaps after dinner, if you don’t mind, I can invite my friend Elizabeth to come over a little while. Her family has a house on Leicester Square—quite near Nicholas’s—and although she is younger than I by a year, we really enjoy each other’s company. She is really quite lovely.”

  “No, I don’t mind at all.”

  Frances placed her hand on top of Jane’s. “And thank you for staying with me…with us. I remember, from Clara’s last visit to London, that you have some family here. But I am so glad that you have decided to stay with us instead.”

  Jane smiled warmly. “I would have never left Ireland if I had to spend my time here with my parents’ family. I am afraid my father’s sisters have never recovered from the scandal of my youth. And on my mother’s side…well, perhaps we should just not mention them.”

  “When was the last time you were here?”

  Jane thought back. “Three years ago. I was here when one of my aunts, the youngest sister to my mother, was marrying. We arrived a week before the wedding, and I left for Ireland two days later.”

  “They asked you to leave before the wedding?”

  Jane smiled gently at Frances’s shocked expression. “It was a mutual decision. I was not going to wear anything but black to the ceremony, and this did not agree with the flower bouquet the bride was carrying.”

  Frances blinked once and then burst into laughter. Jane couldn’t stop herself from joining her.

  “I must say, Jane, you have become my ideal,” the young woman said a moment later, her beaming smile lighting up the carriage. “I so admire your courage, your intelligence, your independence…your forthrightness. I strive to become like you someday.”

  “Oh, Fanny.” Jane grasped the younger woman’s hand tightly in her own. “Contrary to what you think…I am someone to avoid. Nothing good will come out of becoming as disagreeable as I have become.”

  “I beg to disagree with that.” She leaned forward and smiled meaningfully. “You have not only managed to capture Nicholas’s interest, you have redirected his life entirely. I should say—remembering the impossible bachelor rogue that he was before—you have accomplished a most astonishing feat.”

  “There are much easier ways of capturing a man’s interest than the route I have taken.”

  “But I doubt there are many that are more exciting.”

  Before Jane could argue further, Frances pointed to an approaching street. “And here we are! That is Elizabeth’s house. And right there…on that side of the square…is Nicholas’s.”

  Jane looked out the window at the line of fashionable houses surrounding a large fenced area of greensward and walks with a garden and statue in the center.

  “The gilded statue of the man on the horse—” Frances pointed again. “That is the first King George.”

  Jane’s attention was still on the house. She did not know if Nicholas were in London or elsewhere.

  The carriage rounded the square and came to a stop in front of the house. Instantly, footmen and servants were lining up before the steps as Jane followed Frances out onto the street. They had obviously been expected, for more servants rushed out to carry up the baggage.

  It was the smell of London that struck a chord in her memory. So different from the clear farm air and the smell of peat, here the crisp autumn air carried with it the not unpleasant scent of coal fires.

  Inside, she was introduced to the house steward, a rather formidable looking rough named Charles, who appeared to b
e blind in his left eye from some horrible injuries he’d sustained on that side of his face. The housekeeper, Mrs. Hannagan, was a surprise to Jane, for the woman was from Dublin and as cheerful as she was apparently efficient. Their reception was warm, and, to her delight, the housekeeper answered the question that had been burning on Jane’s tongue since yesterday.

  “Sir Nicholas has been out all day, miss. But he did send a message around noon that if you were to arrive early enough, that you should rest and be ready for a late dinner at the home the Earl of Stanmore’s house tonight. Lady Stanmore insisted, miss.”

  Jane remembered Nicholas mentioning the name and referring to them as his best friends.

  “Oh, they are in London?” Frances asked in an obvious delight.

  “Only for a few more days, Miss Fanny. They’ll soon be leaving for Solgrave—that is their estate in Hertfordshire, Miss Purefoy—but Lady Stanmore has insisted on meeting Miss Purefoy and visiting with you both.”

  As they were ushered upstairs to their rooms, Jane spoke up. “I think it would be best if I were to stay behind. I am a stranger and…”

  “Do not even think it!” Frances gave her a bright smile. “Knowing my brother’s friends, the main purpose of this dinner tonight is to meet you.” She shook her head before Rebecca could speak. “You heard what Mrs. Hannagan said. They want to meet Miss Purefoy.”

  “But that is surely Clara and not I.”

  “They met Clara last spring.” Frances patted Jane’s hand. “Accept it! You will have to spend another evening under the lens. But this time I believe you will not mind it.”

  “And why is that?” Jane asked suspiciously as Mrs. Hannagan directed a serving maid to open the door to a spacious and beautifully appointed bedchamber.

  “Because Stanmore is dashingly handsome. Because Rebecca is about your age and is as untraditional as any countess in England. And because they are the happiest married couple I have ever encountered in my life. Is that not so, Mrs. Hannagan?”