A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (129 page)

“
You’re shaking,” he said.
He took off his coat and wrapped her in it, then drew her into his
arms.

“
He—he shot—”

“
Utley intended to shoot
me. Neil shot him first.”

“
But…” Jane shook her head
from side to side, utterly bewildered by the day’s events. It had
been too much for her. Far, far too much.

He needed to get her back inside.
She’d catch her death if he didn’t get her warm and dry soon.
Joshua and Sarah, as well, for that matter.

“
Neil, can you handle
things from here?”

“
I think I’ve got it sorted
out,” his brother called out.

Peter nodded, then picked his wife up
in his arms and carried her back into the castle.

He took the stairs two at a
time, when he discovered that Jane was finally crying. She wouldn’t
want the staff to see her in such a state. For that matter, she
might not want
him
to see her that way either, but she obviously could no longer
hold back.

The fire in his chamber was still
burning, but low. Peter stood Jane on her own feet, then added more
logs and hoped they would quickly catch.

“
Take off your wet
clothes,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”

When she meekly nodded, he rushed out
the door, sent Mrs. Pratt inside with his children, sent his butler
out to fetch the magistrate, and made sure the rest of his servants
were all safe. On his way back up to his chamber, he stripped his
own coat off. As he came through the door, he followed it with his
shirt. Jane was still standing where he’d left her, fully dressed
in her soaked gown, with tears pouring down her cheeks.

This was precisely what he’d wished he
could avoid. Christ, she looked so fragile at that moment, and he
could do nothing to take the hurt or shock away.

He crossed the room to stand before
her. “Let me help you. Sweetheart, I can’t have you taking ill.”
With one hand, he untied the sash about her waist, removing the
pins from her hair with the other so it could hang loose to
dry.

Jane stood still, allowing him to do
as he would. After he removed her gown, she was still shivering
before him. Even her shift was soaked through. He pulled that over
her head and dragged a blanket from the bed to wrap her in before
carrying her to the wingback chair next to the hearth.

He kicked his Hessians off as quickly
as he could manage, and then his wet pantaloons and breeches. If he
was going to warm her, the surest manner of doing so was with his
own body heat.

“
Come to me,” he said,
pulling Jane to her feet. He took her in his arms and draped the
blanket around them both.

Jane buried her face against his
chest, her tears combining with the rain water still covering them
both. He held her there, stroking her back, until the warmth
returned to his limbs, until her tears dried in her
eyes.

“
Do you want to talk about
it?”

Jane shook her head. “Just hold me.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, drawing closer to
him.

He was hard and uncomfortable with her
body sliding against him, but he’d be damned if he would take her
at a time like this. She needed him. She needed his love, not his
lust.

She sat there with him, using his
chest as a pillow, for what felt like hours. She smelled of summer
and rain and sweetness. And again, warm tears fell and gathered on
his chest.

“
I’m sorry, love.” Peter
took her face in his hands and tilted her head so was facing him.
“Christ, Jane. I love you so much, sweetheart. I can’t stand to see
you hurting.”

“
You’re sorry?” she
demanded, standing up and allowing the blanket to fall. “Why on
earth are you apologizing to me now? For holding me? For helping me
to grieve?” She shoved away from him and fled to the other side of
the room.

“
No, that’s not what I
apologized for. I’m sorry that Utley tried to hurt you in order to
hurt me. I’m sorry that I can’t take the hurt away. That I couldn’t
protect you from this pain.”

“
I’m not finished.” She
punctuated each word through gritted, chattering teeth.

He picked the blanket up from where
she’d dropped it on the floor and carried it to wrap around
her.

She shrugged his hands away again,
causing the blanket to fall to the floor. Goose flesh peppered her
skin as she shivered.

“
Please, Jane. I’ll leave
you alone, but please cover yourself. I don’t want you to catch a
chill.” He couldn’t lose her. Not for anything.

“
Fine.” She picked the
blanket up and wrapped it around herself. However desperately he
wanted to put her back in his bed or seat her near the fire, he
refrained.

“
Go on,” he encouraged.
When she neglected to immediately resume where he’d interrupted, he
held his hands up. “I promise. I’ll remain silent until you’re
finished.”

His wife nodded. “You can’t protect me
from everything, Peter. Certainly not from life itself.”

“
I know—”

She gave him the fiercest glare anyone
had ever dared to issue him in his entire life.

“
Pets dying? That’s a
natural part of life. You know this. But what you don’t seem to
recognize is that needing to
do
something—anything—is also a natural part of life.
For everyone.”

Jane took a seat in a
wingback chair and tightened the blanket about her shoulders. “I
grew up having to work. It was simply my lot in life. We aren’t all
born to privilege, you know, and the rest of us have to find a way
to make ends meet. So I helped around the house and the garden, and
I did some sewing work for the neighborhood. Again, you know all of
this. But the part you seem to not understand is that I didn’t just
do all of this because I
had
to do it—I actually enjoyed it. I like feeling
useful—feeling needed. It gives me something to do.”

“
But—“

“
Do
not
interrupt me.” Her imperial tone
impressed him. “When I agreed to marry you, I only did so because
you promised me—
promised
me, Peter—that you would give me responsibilities.
You have enough responsibilities to occupy three normal people, yet
what have you allowed me to do? To play with your children without
taking part in their rearing, to work on some mindless embroidery
that no one will ever look at, and to plan the menu with Cook. I
will have you know, I’m not a mindless twit. Nor am I content to
live an idle lifestyle. I understand that I have a new role, but
there’s no reason I can’t fulfill the obligations of that position
and also have something meaningful with which to occupy my
day.”

He had a hard time thinking of the
last time even his mother had delivered him such a blistering
set-down. Good God. All of this time, he’d been trying to take away
her burdens, to make her life easier—and all he’d accomplished was
to make her feel useless and miserable. Quite the opposite of his
intentions.

“
If we’re to make this
work, Peter, there will have to be some changes. Not the least of
which is that if you ever dare to apologize to me again for not
being able to protect me from life itself, I will throttle you to
within an inch of your life. Understood?”

“
Understood. May I
speak?”

“
When I’ve finished.” The
passion still blazed in her eyes, much the same as it did in the
throes of passion. “You also need to understand that I’m not only
capable of hard work, but I need it. I can work just as hard as any
man or woman in your employ. Menu planning isn’t enough. I need a
purpose—something more than just being your wife.”

“
But you
are
my wife,” he
growled.

“
Precisely. Which is even
more reason to keep me content.”

“
Fine.”

“
There’s one more
thing.”

Of course there was. He inclined his
head.

“
I love you. Against my
better judgment and all of my efforts, but there you have it. I
love you. And how dare you tell me that you love me in the midst of
issuing me the most idiotic apology known to man, burying something
as monumental as that in a manner I was highly likely to miss
entirely? That is unacceptable. Bloody ignorant man. It’s not like
I would have figured that one out on my own, since you’ve been
determined to make me miserable lately. Granted, the way you
handled burying Mr. Cuddlesworth for me when you clearly don’t even
like cats ought to have been a clue.”

She loved him. The rest of what she
just said floated away, but the one tiny little sentence stuck with
him. Jane loved him.

Thank God.

Epilogue

After putting Erasmus Coburn in place
as the new steward of Carreg Mawr, Peter and his family had
returned to London. For once in his life, Town life actually
represented sanity for him. He’d never expected that to
happen.

Since the day Jane’s cat died and
Utley made his final attack, the marriage between Peter and Jane
had become much more manageable. Not that he was glad about Mr.
Cuddlesworth’s death—not at all. But it had proven to be a catalyst
of change for the two of them.

Admittedly, he was the one most in
need of changing. The next day, he’d set about making her life more
livable, more enjoyable for her, by giving her
responsibilities.

Since then, Mrs. Pratt had been
reporting to Jane. Mrs. Dunstan and Mrs. Prichard had already been
working with her in hiring their replacements—primarily in asking
her opinion of potential maids’ abilities—but he’d also granted her
the authority to oversee and organize their efforts.

The scullery maids had
informed him that his wife had been going behind his back and
partaking in the household chores. At first, he’d been furious
about the discovery. But then, after taking a moment to think about
it, he laughed. No one but Jane would sneak about
trying
to perform hard
labor. Most would do the opposite.

She truly was his equal, in far more
ways than he had ever realized. And that, more than anything, was a
gift.

No wonder the
ton
had fallen in love
with her.

Now, back at what would be their
normal, married life, they were discussing what Jane’s
responsibilities would be at Hardwicke House.

“
I would like for you to
coordinate all of the maids’ duties with Mrs. Wilson,” Peter said.
“And Cook will report to you as well...not only for meal planning,
but for all of her needs.”

“
Excellent. And Mrs. Pratt
will continue to report to me?”

“
Of course. You two have
developed quite a rapport of late.” He was grateful for that. In
seeing to all of his own duties, Peter often felt that he was
neglecting his children. Now, with Jane’s help, he had more time
available to spend with them.

Not only that, but they were beginning
to call Jane “Mother.” He had encouraged them both to do so since
the day they’d married. Neither Joshua nor Sarah remembered their
mother. Jane was the only mother they would ever know.

“
There’s something else I’d
like to discuss with you,” Jane broached. Never a good sign—he had
come to learn this. It usually meant he’d done something wrong
again.

What it would be this time?

“
Even with overseeing the
kitchens, the maid staff, and Mrs. Pratt, I believe I’ll have a
great deal of free time.” Jane wrung her hands together and chewed
on the stray curl that had worked itself loose from the knot at her
neck. “I was wondering...well, actually, I have an
idea.”

“
An idea?” Good Lord, this
sounded dreadful.

“
Yes. You see, I still have
the storefront on Bond Street rented. Mr. Selwood and I agreed that
I could use it for a year, to start with. After that, we would
renegotiate. And it’s just sitting there, empty, you see. I just
can’t have that.”

“
Of course.” He knew,
without a doubt, he would never understand his wife. Sometimes
Peter wished she would just come out with things and say what was
on her mind, instead of talking circles around them.

“
So, I had noticed how the
gowns Miss Bentley wears to accompany Lady Warburton to social
engagements aren’t quite up to scratch. She does as well as she can
manage, mind you, but her pay doesn’t allow her to purchase the
finest of fabrics, or to pay for the most fashionable of
designs.”

“
I have no control over how
much her employer pays her, Jane.” Where was she headed with
this?

“
Oh, no. That isn’t what I
meant at all. I was just...well, do try to keep up with me, dear.
You remember, we were talking about my shop?”

He remembered she’d been talking about
the shop until she jumped to a seemingly unrelated subject. Deuced
woman.

Thankfully, she continued without
waiting for his response. “You see, Peter, Miss Bentley is far from
alone in her predicament. Ladies of her class run into this problem
all the time. So my plan is to open up a dress shop specifically
for them.”