From Rags to Kisses by Shana Galen

Twelve

“She’s weeping again,” Oscar said, sounding exasperated. Roland looked up from the ledger he’d been using to catalogue the items from Sterling’s trunks. Sterling had ordered them sent to Chamberlayne House two days ago.

“You saw her?” he asked.

“I heard her.” Oscar leaned against the door. “I heard her sniffling on the other side of the parlor door.”

Roland narrowed his eyes. “How does one hear sniffling?”

“One presses his ear to the door.” Oscar gave him an unrepentant look.

Roland shook his head. “Oscar, must I give you another lecture on eavesdropping?”

“Rollie, must I give you another lecture on friendship? Go to her. Find out what’s wrong.”

Roland sat back on his haunches. “I know what’s wrong. Sterling did something to upset her.”

“Then go challenge the cur to a duel.”

The viscount rolled his eyes. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

Oscar shrugged. “A few days.” He shoved off from the door and went to light a lamp. It had been raining most of the day, and the room was dark. “Fine, no duels. I don’t want you killed. But go talk to him again.”

“And say what? Don’t make Jenny cry? Do you think she’ll thank me for interfering once more?”

“No.” Oscar sat on the couch and stared at the fabric, books, and various other items scattered about. “But you should at least tell her we’re leaving. She still thinks you plan to marry by special license any day.”

“I keep thinking she and Sterling will work things out, and she’ll cry off.”

“Clearly that doesn’t appear to be in the cards, so to speak.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to her.” Roland rose and started for the door. Oscar was right behind him. “Where are you off to?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’ll stay here. It will be better if I talk to her privately.”

“Fine,” he agreed quickly. Too quickly.

“Oscar, no putting your ear to the door.”

Oscar widened his eyes, all innocence. “I would never!”

Roland took his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll tell you everything later.”

“You’d better,” Oscar said, flopping on the couch like a petulant child. Roland left him, walked across the hall to the parlor where Jenny preferred to work, and tapped on the door. “Come in,” she called. She didn’t sound like she’d been crying.

Roland opened the door, and as soon as he saw her, he knew Oscar hadn’t been wrong. Her gray eyes were rimmed with red, and her cheeks were pink. She sat straight and looked composed, but Roland had known her too long. He wasn’t fooled.

“How is the inventory progressing?” she asked, sounding like a perfect lady.

“Very well.” He took a seat opposite her. “Any idea why Sterling decided to send it all here?”

“None,” she said, her eyes not meeting his.

“Jenny, I can tell you’ve been crying.”

She shook her head. “I’m not crying. Something was in my eye.”

Roland studied her. “I’ve known you more than a decade, and I’ve seen you cry perhaps once. What has Sterling done?”

“Nothing. I’m through with him. I told you, we said good-bye. I’m ready to marry as soon as you are.”

“I don’t think you are, actually,” he said.

“Wot—what do you mean?”

“This marriage was supposed to be a convenience between friends. Oscar and I could be together without suspicion—or at least less suspicion—and you could live here and have easier access to our finds. But I never intended for our marriage to be the way you run from your problems.”

“I don’t run from my problems.” The look she gave him was rather more menacing than he liked.

He steepled his hand in front of him. “You never did before. Before Aidan Sterling.”

Jenny jumped up. “This isn’t about ‘im—him.”

“No?”

“No! He doesn’t want to marry me.”

“He doesn’t? Has he asked?”

“He mentioned it, but ‘e—he—wasn’t thinking with his head, if ye know what I mean.”

He smiled. “I think I do. But words said in the heat of passion are not necessarily false.”

She walked across the floor, looked out the window, and came back. “ ‘E didn’t ask me, and even if ‘e ‘ad, I would ‘ave said no. I don’t want to marry ‘im.”

“Why not? He’s handsome, rich, obviously there is some physical attraction between the two of you, not to mention your shared history.”

“Exactly. ‘E left me once. ‘E’ll do it again.”

“Ah.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Wot’s that mean?”

When her face was clouded with that stormy look, Roland found it best to withdraw quietly. “Nothing at all.”

“Ye don’t think ‘e’ll leave me? ‘E will. ‘E said ‘e loved me before, but I’m smarter now. I know that’s all a lie.”

“He didn’t love you all those years ago?”

“Course not.”

“Because he left or because you think it impossible that anyone might love you?”

She pointed an accusing finger at him. “Don’t ye start.”

“Do you believe I love you?”

She gave him a startled look as though she truly had not considered it before.

“Do you believe Oscar loves you?”

Her hands dropped from her hips as she seemed to consider what he was saying. “That’s different. We’re friends. Ye don’t love me like ye love Oscar.”

“I love you like I love a sister, true. But I do love you.”

Her cheeks turned pinker, and she picked at a ribbon on her cream-colored dress. “Wot’s this to do with anything? I love ye too. That’s why we’re marrying. To keep ye safe.”

“Jenny,” Roland said, “we’re not marrying.”

Her head jerked up and she stared at him.

“I can’t marry you when I know you’re in love with someone.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. It was one thing when there was no one and it didn’t seem like there would be anyone—”

“There’s still no one!”

“—but now it’s different. I can’t marry you. I won’t let you use this marriage to run from Sterling. When you two do work things out, you’ll hate me and wish you were free to be with him.”

“I won’t. Stop talking like this.”

“There’s more.”

She glared at him, almost challenging him to say it. So he took a deep breath and did. “You know Oscar has always wanted to travel more. This seems like an opportune time. Oscar and I are leaving.”

“Without me,” she said flatly.

“Yes.”

“When will ye be back?”

“I don’t know. Years, perhaps?”

“Wot?”

“It’s not safe for us here.”

“It could be if ye’d just listen to me and get the bloody license.”

“And if you would just listen to me and go talk to your Aidan, then you’ll be that closer to thanking me for doing this.”

“Thank ye for leaving me?” she shouted. Roland flinched. Oscar would not need to eavesdrop if she continued at that volume. “And wot am I supposed to do now?”

“Why should you do anything different than you have? You don’t need me. Half the requests we receive for appraisal are addressed to you. You’ve earned your reputation, and you may continue to work out of Chamberlayne House if you like. I’ll keep a skeleton staff here to look after things.”

The look she gave him cut him to the bone. Roland almost felt sorry for Aidan Sterling because if the look she gave him now was anything like what she’d given Sterling all those years ago, it must have cost him half his heart to walk away from her.

“I’m not leaving because I don’t love you, Jenny,” he said. “I’m leaving because I do.”

“Yer just like ‘im. Like all the rest,” she said, lifting her skirts and starting for the door.

“Where are you going? Our ship doesn’t sail for days yet. Let’s talk about this, Jenny. Oscar wants to talk to you.”

She ignored him, opened the door, and stepped out of the way as Oscar toppled inside. Roland sighed and directed a look of annoyance in Oscar’s direction. Oscar gave a sheepish shrug.

Jenny went around Oscar, and Roland heard her boots clicking on the marble of the foyer. A moment later, a door crashed, making the house shake.

“That seemed like it went well,” Oscar said.

“Better than I expected, actually,” Roland said. “Probably best to give her a day to soothe her ruffled feathers.”

“I hope she doesn’t do anything drastic.”

“Jenny? She’s not the type.”

***

“I DON’T WANT EXCUSES,” Aidan told the manager cowering in front of him.

“But, sir,” the manager whined. “The ship sunk in a storm. I can’t sell spices at the bottom of the ocean. We’re fortunate the crew wasn’t lost.”

“I hope they don’t expect to be paid if they come ashore without their cargo.”

“Sir, I will file with the insurance company. The cargo was insured.”

“I’ll file with the insurance company, Mr. Kettering. You’ll need to find another position. Now out of my office.”

“But, sir!”

“Pryce,” Aidan said, turning his back to Kettering and staring out the window of the building. It overlooked Bond Street.

“Mr. Kettering, would you come with me, please,” Pryce, his private secretary, said.

“How can he blame me for a typhoon? That’s why we have insurance.”

“Come with me, please,” Pryce said, his tone soothing.

The door closed behind the two men and Aidan swore, lifted a model of the lost ship and threw it against the wall, shattering it into tiny pieces. He knew it wasn’t Kettering’s fault the ship was lost, but he didn’t care. He’d been in a foul mood for three days and the last thing he needed was being told he’d lost twenty thousand pounds. What he probably needed was sleep, but that seemed lost to him as well. Every time he went home and laid his head on the pillow, he thought about Jenny. He’d almost gone to her half a dozen times, but he knew better. She’d told him to get out, and she’d meant it. Now he’d probably have to wait another thirteen years before he saw her again. Because that’s what these last thirteen years had been—he’d been waiting to see her again. He hadn’t realized it until he’d been on his way home from her flat, the sky lightening as the sun came up. But all those years he’d tried to fill the void in his life with the army or making money because without Jenny, he had nothing.

Someone tapped on his door. Aidan stared out the window. “Come.”

“Sir?” It was Pryce. “Should I cancel the meeting with the Bainbridge investors?”

Aidan glared at him over his shoulder. “Why?”

“No reason, sir. I’ll ready the conference room, shall I?”

Aidan waved a hand. He couldn’t care less. He’d go in and convince them to give him more money. That was what he was good at. Rain came down in sheets outside the window, and men hurried past with black umbrellas over their heads.

Another tap at the door. “Now what?”

The door opened. “The conference room can’t be ready yet,” he said, rounding on Pryce with an angry retort. But it wasn’t Pryce. It was Jenny, wet hair streaming down her cheeks and mouth flattened in a tight, angry line.

“What the devil?”

She stomped in, trailing water with her soggy hem. Her dress was cream and clung to her body. The sleeves and the upper part of the bodice were almost sheer, showing patches of skin beneath. “How dare ye?” she spat.

Aidan finally closed his mouth and ceased gawking. He crossed the room in two strides, took her arm, and brought her close to the hearth. Her skin was cold. “You’ll catch your death,” he said.

She gave him a weary look. “A bit of water never killed me before.” She yanked her arm away from him. “Don’t change the subject. I want to know ‘ow ye did it. ‘Ow did ye convince ‘im to leave?”

She wasn’t making any sense. “Pryce!” he bellowed. “Pryce! I need a blanket and tea.”

“I told ye, I’m fine,” she said, giving him a shove to prove it. “But ye’ll soon be missing parts of yer anatomy if ye don’t go tell Roland ‘e can stay.”

“Tell Roland he can stay?” Aidan repeated slowly.

“Sir?” Pryce was at the door. His eyes widened when he spotted Jenny dripping on the floor. “Shall I dispense with this...person?”

“Ye go ahead and try it!” Jenny said, taking a menacing step toward Pryce, whose steel gray hair seemed to turn white as Aidan watched.

“Pryce, hot tea and a blanket, please,” Aidan said. He wasn’t certain if his secretary’s eyes widened this time because of the request or the please he added at the end. But there was no denying that his mood had improved as soon as Jenny had entered.

“Yes, sir.” Pryce turned on his heel and walked away. Aidan crossed to the door, closed it, and turned back to Jenny.

“Do you want to tell me what this is about? If you wanted to see me, you could have sent a note. I would have come to you and spared you the trek in this weather.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not some ‘elpless lady who sits in ‘er drawing room all day fretting about a bit of a drizzle.”

Aidan glanced at the window through which he could see nothing due to the heavy rain pouring down.

“And don’t pretend ye don’t know why I’m ‘ere.”

“All right.” He clenched his hands, wishing he had the blanket already so he could wrap it about her shoulders. He didn’t care what she said, she was cold. He could see her shivering, and her lips looked decidedly blue. “The truth is, I’m not pretending. I didn’t think I’d see you again after you kicked me out of your bed a few days ago.”

“So ye decided to punish me by sending Roland away.”

“I didn’t send Lord Chamberlayne anywhere. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in days.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“The most I’ve done is send a note with the contents of the larder. In the note, I requested he send me an inventory and appraisal of the contents of the trunk before he made it public.”

There was another tap at the door and Pryce entered carrying a blanket, followed by a clerk with the tea tray. “Pryce,” Aidan said. “What did the note I had you send to Viscount Chamberlayne say? Can you paraphrase it here?”

“Of course, sir.”

While Pryce recited the note, saying almost exactly what Aidan had related a moment before, he took the blanket and wrapped it around Jenny’s shoulders. She batted his hands away but held on to the blanket and sniffed.

“Is there anything else, sir?” Pryce asked.

“No, you may go.”

“Sir, the Bainbridge investors will be here in a quarter hour,” Pryce said, glancing at Jenny.

“Tell them we’ll reschedule.”

“Very good, sir. And your lunch with the Chancellor of the Exchequer?”

“Cancel it,” Aidan said sharply. “Cancel everything.”

Pryce stared at him for a long moment, obviously not believing his ears.

“That will be all, Pryce,” Aidan said. “You.” He pointed to the clerk who shrank back. “Leave the tea cart.”

Pryce ushered the clerk out and closed the door again. Aidan went to the tea cart, poured a generous cup of tea for Jenny then looked at her. “I have no idea how you take it.”

“Black.” She crossed to his desk and sat behind it. Aidan frowned at her presumption but thought it better not to argue. He set the tea on the corner of his desk and watched her lift it and cradle it in her cold hands. He sat down across from her, in the chair reserved for guests.

“Now what’s this about Chamberlayne leaving? I thought you were to be married.”

She waved a hand as though dismissing the idea. “ ‘E won’t marry me.”

Aidan knew he should try to express some sympathy, but the vise around his lungs—the tightness he hadn’t even known was there—suddenly loosened, and he could breathe for the first time in days.

“I can see ye smiling. Ye might as well stop trying to ‘ide it.”

He cleared his throat and used the excuse to put a hand over his mouth. “I am sorry. Why won’t he marry you?”

“Because ‘e says I’m in love with ye. But I’m not.”

Aidan clutched the arms of his chair and tried to catch his breath. He felt as though all the air had been knocked out of him, and he hadn’t felt that way since...since the first time she’d told him she loved him.

“And he doesn’t believe you don’t love me,” Aidan said, when he was able to breathe again.

“ ‘E thinks ‘e’s being lofty by calling off the wedding. Says ‘e doesn’t want me to make a mistake. But if we call off the wedding, ‘e and Oscar ‘ave to leave the country. They’re sailing to the Continent.”

“Jenny, I’m sorry,” Aidan said and meant it. “I had nothing to do with this. If there’s some way to help—”

“The way to ‘elp was for me to marry ‘im. Now I may never see ‘im again. Thanks to ye!”

Aidan sat back surprised at the venom in her voice. But then Chamberlayne was probably her only true friend. He was like a brother to her, and now she was losing him. He couldn’t imagine her grief. “Maybe if I talk to him. He could go to one of my country houses, stay out of Society for a few months—”

“I think ye’ve done enough.” She tossed the blanket off and stood. “I’ll thank ye to stay out of this.”

Aidan jumped up, reaching the door before she did. He’d walked out of her life once before and thought he would never see her again. Now she was walking out of his life. He couldn’t let this happen without saying something, without trying to convince her to stay.

“Get out of my way.”

“I will, but I want to say something first. Have you considered that Chamberlayne is doing this because he cares about you? Because he wants the best for you?”

“That’s what ‘e said. And ye know wot?” She glared at Aidan. “I’m tired of everyone else thinking they know wot’s best for me.”

“Fine. Then I won’t tell you what I think. I’ll tell you what I feel.”

She went still at those words, her gray eyes becoming steely. It wasn’t exactly the most encouraging expression, but Aidan plowed onward. “I still love you, Jenny. Yes, I left you, but I did as I promised. I came back for you. I searched for you for weeks. I tried everything I could to find you. I thought you were dead.” His voice broke, and he thought her expression softened slightly.

“You were safe with Chamberlayne by that time. But I didn’t know that. I thought I’d never see you again, but now that I have, I can’t let you go again. These past days without you, I’ve been miserable. I know you think the only thing I love is money, but if you give me a chance, I’ll show you that I love you more.”

She said nothing. Did nothing. Aidan got on one knee. He was nothing if not a risk-taker. “Jenny Tate, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She stared at him, and he thought he might have seen the shimmer of tears in her eyes. And then she gazed into his eyes and said, “No.”

She swept past him, opened the door, and gave a small gasp. Aidan had expected her to stomp away, but instead he turned to see Pryce standing outside, his hand on the shoulder of a small child. “I’m dreadfully sorry to interrupt, sir,” Pryce said, showing no reaction to the fact that Aidan was kneeling on the ground. Aidan rose slowly. “But this person says it needs to see you, and nothing we have said or done will dissuade it.”

“Wot’s this then?” Jenny asked instantly moving closer to the wet child in rags. “Wot ye need ‘im for?” She jerked a thumb back at Aidan.

“I’m ‘ere to collect me money,” the child said.

Jenny looked at Aidan, who shook his head.

“Shall I try throwing it out? Again?” Pryce asked.

“Oy! Not until I get me money. Ye promised.” The child—a girl, Aidan thought—pointed at him. “Name is ‘Arley. Ye owe me.”