From Rags to Kisses by Shana Galen

Six

Jenny didn’t see Aidanthe next day. She worked in his library all day, her ears listening for the door opening or the sound of his footsteps, but he never came. She was surprised. After he’d sent the homing pigeon with the reminder that they only had six days left in the wager, she thought he would go straight to work trying to persuade her to kiss him so he could win. But perhaps he’d forgotten about the wager.

Or perhaps he stayed away because he knew it would make her think and wonder and drive her completely mad. The pigeons were all home at the end of the day, so when she and Roland left Aidan’s house that afternoon, she knew she wouldn’t receive any missives from Aidan. She and Roland attended a dinner party that evening, and she went home and to bed without any mention of Aidan.

The next day was similar. She worked alone in the library until afternoon then went home early to rest before the ball Roland wanted to attend. It was to be a lavish affair hosted by the Duke and Duchess of Warcliffe, and Roland had instructed Jenny to wear her best dress and jewels. Though she preferred her red dress, she’d worn that at the last ball—the one where she’d seen Aidan again—so she chose her sapphire blue gown and her diamond parure. She was aware the gown made her eyes look more blue than gray, and Norris had ornamented her coiffure with tiny sapphire pins that sparkled in the lamplight. She chose a new pair of pretty blue slippers and then rushed downstairs as she’d kept Roland waiting a half hour.

In the coach she realized she’d made a mistake with the slippers. She should have tried them on before wearing them. They were tight and probably too small. She would be miserable dancing in them for any length of time. Oscar wasn’t with them. Roland thought it wise for the two of them to be seen without him sometimes. “And I must warn you, dear girl,” he said as the carriage approached the bright lights of the Warcliffe residence, “I intend to show everyone how much I adore you. You’ll give me the first dance, of course. And I’ll be entitled to one other. After that, feel free to dance with whomever you like.”

“If my bloody feet ‘urt as much as I expect, I won’t be doing much dancing.”

“Accent, darling,” he said.

Jenny blew out a breath and pasted on a smile as a footman opened the carriage door, and Roland took her hand and escorted her into the massive house. She would have been impressed regardless, but after seeing Aidan’s house, her jaw didn’t drop at the crystal chandeliers and the ornate gold wall sconces. She went through the receiving line, accepting the compliments and best wishes gracefully, then had only a few minutes to rest her feet before the first dance began and Roland swept her up.

Jenny usually enjoyed dancing with Roland. He’d taught her all the dances, and after she’d danced with a few other gentlemen, she realized he was quite a good dancer. He was light on his feet and always seemed to know when she didn’t know the next step and skillfully guided her into it. They danced a quadrille and then a country dance she didn’t know the name of, and then he left her to fetch champagne, and she was immediately surrounded by half a dozen young men who wanted the next dance.

Jenny flirted and put them off, wishing she could sit down and slip off her shoes. Most of the men seemed happy to just converse with her, but one man—the son of a baron—continued to insist she dance with him.

“My lord,” she said sweetly, “you must allow me to catch my breath.”

“The next dance is a waltz, Miss Tate,” the baron’s son said with a smile, showing his uneven teeth. They looked sharp and carnivorous to Jenny. She cast her eyes about for Roland, but after delivering her champagne, he had been pulled aside by one of her admirers. The two men chatted amiably now, and Roland obviously didn’t see Jenny’s distress. It wasn’t that she couldn’t take care of herself. She could handle any one of these nobs. It was that she didn’t know how to handle them politely.

“She can’t dance the waltz with you, Mr. Harmon,” said a voice Jenny recognized.

Mr. Harmon, the baron’s son, frowned until the men around them cleared and the tall figured of Aidan Sterling came into focus. The men parted further to allow him to approach.

“Why is that, Mr. Sterling?” Harmon asked.

Aidan took Jenny’s hand, bent, and kissed it. “Because she’s promised it to me.”

Jenny would have dearly loved to contradict him in front of all those men. She would have loved to take him down a notch. He deserved it, the way he swaggered and moved as though this was his ball and he was the most coveted man in attendance. That last part was probably true. Still, she would have liked to knock him down a peg, but if she did that she would have had to dance with tiger teeth Mr. Harmon, and that seemed a decision that would belie her own interests.

Instead, she allowed Aidan to lead her away from the other men, drawing her closer to the dance floor. He paused at the edge and gave her a long look. “I forgot to ask if you know how to waltz.”

“Of course, I do,” she answered. And then another thought occurred to her. “Don’t you?”

He gave a slight shrug. “No, but I’ll make it up as we go along.”

Jenny stared at him, stumbling when he led her to the center of the ballroom floor. “Why are we in the center?” she hissed. “Everyone will see us!”

He put his hand on her waist and pulled her closer. “It’s not as though you can hide in that gown.”

“It’s perfectly appropriate,” she argued.

“You look stunning,” he answered, and that comment left her speechless. The strains of a waltz began, and Jenny held her breath as Aidan began to lead her in the first steps. But to her surprise, he didn’t stumble or count woodenly. He danced as though he were born to it, which being the son of an earl, he rather was.

After a moment, she forgot her fears and almost forgot her aching feet. He was such a skilled leader, such a consummate dancer, she needn’t think of anything but holding on. “Why did you say you couldn’t dance?” she asked. “You’re wonderful.”

He smiled at her. “I like to scare you a little. Keeps things interesting.”

“I said that when I was seventeen,” she chided. “I don’t feel that way now.”

“Now you like everything to be boring and predictable. Is that how Chamberlayne won you over?”

She didn’t want to talk about Roland. And she didn’t want to acknowledge that she wasn’t as angry at Aidan as she had been even a few days ago. She needed to remember that he’d left her, and she could never forgive him for that. But this was not the place to air that grievance. “I had plenty of excitement in my youth, and life with Roland is quite exciting. We’ve traveled the world.”

“You always did want to escape London.”

“You weren’t the only one who wanted to escape poverty and hunger. And I wanted to avoid ending up making a living on my back like my mother.” Of course, she had always thought they’d escape together. Aidan had obviously only thought of himself.

“And look at you now,” he said and twirled her around. “No one who knew you then would believe it.”

“Everyone who knew you would believe it. You never belonged in Spitalfields. Even dressed in rags, you were too good for the place.”

His gaze locked on hers, his dark eyes startled.

“You’re surprised I said that?” she asked. “Didn’t you think you were too good for it?”

“No,” he said, and his voice had a familiar timbre. It was the voice she remembered from all those years ago—his real voice—not the voice of the wealthy businessman. “You accused me more than once of thinking I was too good for the rookeries, but the truth is I never thought I was good enough. I would have died if not for you.”

She shook her head. “You would have found a way to survive. You were, and still are, a fighter.”

He swallowed and looked away. “So are you,” he murmured. “You’re the only one of us to knock out Meg Hardy.”

She smiled faintly at the memory. “One thing I can’t fight is these bloody shoes,” she said under her breath. “My feet are bloody killing me.”

Aidan threw back his head and laughed. If the other guests hadn’t been watching him before, he’d garnered their attention now. “You know what I like about you? You always say what’s on your mind.”

Not always, she thought as she looked up at his handsome face. She couldn’t say what was on her mind at that moment because it would most certainly shock him—and he might just take her up on it, which would be disaster for everyone. He skillfully guided her off the dance floor and escorted her toward the refreshment table. He took two glasses of champagne and whispered in her ear, “I know someplace you can sit and take your shoes off. Take my arm.”

She accepted it, and he took her for what would appear to others to be a stroll around the room. Instead, they slipped out of the ballroom, through the supper room, and into a dark chamber. A pianoforte stood in the center of the room, a harp beside it, as well as music stands and other dark shapes that might have been other instruments. A plush couch in a color she couldn’t make out in the darkness had been placed opposite the instruments, and Aidan led her there.

“I took a wrong turn when I was in the supper room earlier,” he said. “I assume this is the music room. The duke has several children and grandchildren, and I imagine this is where they play or take lessons.”

Jenny collapsed gratefully on the couch and reached for her slippers, but before she could grasp one, Aidan knelt before her, lifted a foot, and tugged the slipper off. Then he did the same with her other foot. He placed the slippers on the carpet, and Jenny stretched her toes.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” It was dangerous being here with him. She shouldn’t have left the ball. She should have asked Aidan to take her to Roland and had Roland find her a place to sit down. But it was too late to go back and do it again. Now she was alone with Aidan. She jumped when he took her foot. “Wot are ye doing?”

“You said your feet hurt.”

“Ye don’t need to do that.”

“The night is young. You have many dances ahead of you.”

“Maybe I’ll ‘ide in ‘ere all night.” She laid her head back, giving in to his ministrations. How could she argue with him? His fingers were magic as they rubbed and pressed and eased all the aches from her foot.

“I should fetch your betrothed,” he said.

“Yes.”

But neither of them moved. He took her other foot and began to massage it. She turned her head to study the pianoforte. “Do ye play?” she asked, lifting her head to sip her champagne.

“No. You?”

She blew out a breath.

“You know how to waltz,” he argued. “Maybe you learned how to play the pianoforte or the harp.”

“If I sat down and played the ‘arp, my mother would turn over in ‘er grave.”

His hands stilled. “I didn’t realize—I knew about your father.”

She nodded. “ ‘E died right before ye left. Me ma, she didn’t make it through the winter that year ye left.”

He squeezed her foot. “I’m so sorry.”

She shrugged and pulled her foot away. “Better off dead, if ye ask me. Couldn’t ‘ave weighed more than six stone when she passed. All she cared about was the drink in the end.”

“Jenny.” He tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away.

“Don’t Jenny me. Ye lost the right to ‘old me when ye left me. I don’t need yer pity.”

“It’s not pity.” He stood. “Your mother died. I know how that feels.”

She looked up at him. “Course ye do, but yer mother was a good mum. Mine...” She shook her head. “She’d just as soon beat me as ‘ug me. Ye met ‘er.”

“She loved you. In her way,” he added. “Even I could see that.”

Her eyes stung, and she swiped at them angrily. “She’s gone now. Joined that miserable cove she married in ‘ell. Better off without ‘er.”

“You always were,” he said. “You were stronger than her, braver than her. I always knew you were special.” He sank into the space beside her on the couch. “I tried to take you with me when I left.”

“Not this old argument,” she said. “Yer uncle came for ye, not all the ‘angers on from the streets.”

“You were hardly a hanger on. You saved my life. I wanted to repay the favor.”

“By making me a maid in yer uncle’s ‘ousehold?”

“It was a start,” he protested.

“I didn’t know a thing about being a maid, and I’d rather be free than work from dawn to dusk for a few coppers.”

“In the end, you found your own way.” He laid back, his head on the cushions beside her. It felt so much like the past that she could almost imagine they were back in Spitalfields. She closed her eyes.

“I’m still sore at ye for leaving me. Ye said ye never would.”

“I’ve regretted it so many times over the years,” he admitted. “I thought about you, worried about you. But tell me honestly, given the same opportunity, would you have stayed?”

She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. He’d turned his head too, and their gazes met. Their faces were just inches apart now. She tried to think what to say, but it was difficult to think of anything at all when he looked at her like that. And she couldn’t tell him the truth because the truth was that she would have stayed. She wouldn’t have left him for a thousand pounds. She loved him. She would have stayed with him no matter what.

And the pain she’d felt all those years before hadn’t been so much that he’d left, but that he didn’t love her enough to stay.

“I would have walked away so fast, ye would have choked on the dust of me shoes,” she lied.

He smiled. “That’s what I thought. I’ve never met anyone else like you, Jenny. You’re like another piece of me. We understand each other. No one will ever know me like you do,” he murmured.

Jenny nodded. No one would ever know her as he did. No one else could ever understand how she could loathe her mother and still mourn her passing. No one else had been there when her father had beat her or when her mother had chased after her. It was Aidan who had bandaged her wounds. Aidan who had told her it was alright to cry (not that Jenny would). It was Aidan who had held her, kissed her, loved her. He was the first person to ever love her.

She lifted a hand and touched his cheek, wishing she could remove her glove so she could feel his skin. She stroked down to his chin, that sharp chin she always teased him was the mark of stubbornness. He gazed at her fondly, his mouth curving in a smile. In the dark like this, she could almost imagine they were back in her hidden cellar, just the two of them, alone in the dark. She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his. They felt the same and yet different. He smelled better and the stubble she remembered had been shaved, making his skin smooth.

She drew back, and his hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her close again. “I thought kissing you felt like it did because you were the first,” he whispered. “But that’s not it at all.”

She kissed him again, this time more than a mere brush of her lips. This time she let her lips rove over his, let her mouth take his as she’d been wanting to do. He groaned quietly. “God, Jenny.”

She knew what he meant. There was something between them, something she could almost touch, that drew them together. And when they touched everything became...more. She’d kissed other men after him, men with more skill than a boy of sixteen, but no kiss, no man, had ever made her feel like Aidan. Kissing Aidan was—

Kissing Aidan.

She jumped back, and he sat straight. “What is it?” he sounded alarmed.

“Ye tricked me.”

“What?”

“Ye tricked me so ye’d win. I knew I shouldn’t trust ye.”

“What are you...the wager,” he said, sounding defeated. “Jenny, I swear the wager was the last thing on my mind.”

“I know ye too well to fall for that. Ye’ll do anything to win.”

“Fine.” He stood. “You think I’m not playing fair? Then let’s exclude this ball from the wager. Nothing that happens here counts.”

She stared at him, trying to determine why he would say something like that. She didn’t see how it could benefit him, except it would put her in his debt. “We’d ‘ad to decide that when we made the wager. Or at least before I kissed ye,” she said.

“The rules are whatever we make them,” he argued. “We can decide it now.”

“I see wot yer doing,” she said, standing and pointing a finger at him.

“And what is that? I have no idea, so if you can explain it, I’m all ears.” He held his hands out, his eyes wide and seemingly innocent and confused.

“Ye just want to kiss me again.”

He shrugged. “I should think that would be obvious. I want to kiss you all the time, and the only reason I don’t is that you’re bloody well betrothed.”

Oh, yes. She’d forgotten that for a moment.

“It’s probably best if you and Lord Chamberlayne do take the trunks and remove to his town house. I’m obviously not to be trusted.”

She shook her head. “And now yer pretending it was ye who did the kissing. I kissed ye, which means I lost the wager.”

“Then I forgive your debt.”

“Then I’ll be in yer debt,” she said. “No thank ye. I ‘onor my debts, and I’ll ‘elp ye find that girl like we agreed.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Too bad.” She started away, ready to return to the ball and Roland.

“Jenny,” he said.

“Wot?” She whirled on him. “There’s nothing else to discuss. Ye can’t send me any messages because all the pigeons are ‘ome. So we can talk more tomorrow. In the light of day,” she added and started away again.

“Jenny.”

“Wot!” She was thoroughly exasperated now. She hated to lose, and she hated that it had been to him. And she really hated that she’d promised Roland she could handle her attraction to Aidan when it was obvious to everyone but her that she couldn’t. “Let me be.”

“I just thought you might want your slippers.” He bent and held up her dancing slippers, which were still sitting at the base of the couch.

With a huff she stomped back, took them, and sat down to shove them back on. They hurt just as much as earlier. “I really ‘ate ye sometimes,” she said.

“I know.” And he strode out of the chamber, ruining her grand exit.

***

“LEAVING ALREADY?” COLINasked when Aidan stepped outside the ducal residence and called for his coach.

“Yes. Did you just arrive?”

Colin shook his head. “Been here for hours and will have to stay to the end.”

Aidan frowned.

“Warcliffe is my father-in-law.”

“Ah, that’s right. I always forget you’re married to a duke’s daughter. Must be ten years now.”

“Almost. Lady Daphne spied you earlier and was surprised since you weren’t on the guest list.”

“An oversight, I’m sure,” Aidan said. “I’ll have to speak to her another time.”

“Listen, I want to apologize.”

Aidan waved a hand. “No need.”

“There is a need. What I said the other day, about you only caring about money—”

“Was true. It is all I care about. I’m going back to my offices now to look over some investments and determine how I might make them more profitable.” At least that’s what he’d planned to do—before Jenny had kissed him. Now he wondered if he’d be able to concentrate or if he’d spend the whole night imagining her mouth on his. But he also couldn’t stand here and let Colin apologize. They’d been through too much together during the war and Aidan had too much respect for Colin. “In any case, I started searching for your Harley.”

Colin stared at him, genuine shock on his features. It was rare to see Colin react so honestly. Aidan was most used to seeing the other soldier in disguise. Colin was quite skilled at hiding his emotions or feelings behind a mask or concealing them behind the façade of the character he was playing. Aidan had seen him practically become the character he was playing dozens of times. While Aidan broke into a house or locked room, Colin distracted anyone passing or keeping watch by playing a part. Aidan had stolen important papers from the offices of French generals while Colin coolly played cards with the guards on duty on the other side of the door.

“But you said—”

“I was wrong. You were right,” Aidan said in a rush, not liking to admit when he was wrong but having to do it so little that he could tolerate the uncomfortable sensation once in a while. “I may not be able to locate her. It’s been years since I lived on the streets, but I made a start, and I have information that might prove useful.”

“Aidan.” Colin put a hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “You don’t know how much this will mean to Daphne.”

Aidan tried not to grit his teeth. “I didn’t do it for her.”

Colin nodded. “You don’t owe me anything. I never saved your life.”

Aidan laughed. “You saved it a hundred times by keeping me from being caught pilfering troop assignments and ammunitions shipments. But I didn’t do it out of obligation. I did it out of friendship.”

This was wholeheartedly true. Except it wasn’t exactly Colin’s friendship Aidan had been thinking about when he sat on top of the roof waiting for the lads who wanted to bash his brains in to give up. He suspected if Jenny hadn’t suddenly walked back into his life, he would have told Colin to piss off and not given the matter another thought. But he and Colin were friends and after the years they’d spent working together and the times Colin had risked everything to keep Aidan safe—and vice versa, it should be noted—Aidan owed him a few hours in the rookeries.

“Thank you.”

“I haven’t found her yet,” Aidan said as his coach came into view. “And I probably won’t. By now she’s probably heard someone is looking for her and gone underground. It was already like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. Now it will be like finding a needle in ten haystacks.” Except now he would have help. His carriage arrived, and one of his servants rushed to open the door. Aidan tipped his hat to Colin and climbed inside, settling against the opulent squabs. He had every comfort he could want in this carriage. The seats pulled out to the size of a bed. The cabinets were stocked with an assortment of food and beverages. The upholstery was the finest materials, and even the ceiling had been painted by a renowned artist.

But Aidan couldn’t help but notice he was alone. He had everything he could ever have wanted in life—two of everything in some cases—and no one to share it with. It was no surprise why he felt so melancholy. Before seeing Jenny again, he didn’t care that he was alone—well, not much. Watching so many of the other Survivors marry had, on occasion, caused a pang in the area of the center of his chest. But Aidan always told himself he didn’t have time for a wife. He’d get a wife when he’d made his fortune. When he had financial security.

But he had that. And he’d had it for a long time.

And now he would have to stand by and watch the only person still alive that he had ever loved marry another man. Chamberlayne seemed a decent fellow. He probably cared more about dusty antiques than he did about most people, but then Aidan was living in a glass house and wasn’t about to cast stones. He’d spent the years after he’d returned from the war with the single-minded determination to amass the sort of fortune that he could only have dreamed about all of those years when he’d been unable to sleep because he’d been so hungry. He’d wanted to make sure that not only was he never hungry again, but he would never want again. It had been years since he’d gone to bed hungry or with a want other than making more money. And still he wasn’t satisfied.

And Aidan had a sinking feeling he knew why. Because for years now he hadn’t had Jenny. She’d come back into his life, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting her. If there was one thing about Jenny he understood, it was her loyalty. He’d always loved her for it, and it was a quality he prized highly. She’d given the viscount her hand, and she would be loyal to him. Aidan doubted she would make the mistake of kissing him again. She’d agreed to help him find the child, and she would do that.

But then she would marry Lord Chamberlayne, and Aidan, who was used to getting whatever he wanted, would have to watch her walk away.