You Only Love Twice (15 page)

The shame that Bella had heaped upon her by mentally pouncing on every blot and blemish in sight was nothing to the chagrin Jessica experienced now. It seemed that nothing escaped Lucas’s sharp eyes, either. She had a vision of herself driving around Chalford in her shabby clothes in Joseph’s shabby wagon paying calls on elegant ladies, and afterward, receiving them in Hawkshill’s shabby parlor, and she knew that Lucas spoke the truth. Moreover, he had done no more than say exactly what she had been thinking. But now she began to realize how
Lucas must see her and she was torn between a desire to run from the room and a strong urge to hit him.

Bella’s eyes were wide and innocent. “But Lucas,” she protested, “I only want what’s best for Jessica. And this will give everyone a chance to see that all is forgiven and forgotten between us, as well as raise money for Hawkshill.”

He said evenly, “I don’t dispute that. But I want what’s best for Jessica, too. And I say no.”

Temper glinted in Bella’s eyes. “In that case the ball will go forward without Jessica. But mark my words, people will talk.”

That did it! Not only were they talking about her as though she were invisible, but no one thought to consult her wishes on the matter. She had no more desire to go to Bella’s grand ball than fly to the moon.

The words of refusal trembled on her lips, but she could not say them. The thought that both Bella and Lucas expected her to make a fool of herself got her dander up. She might not have learned the social graces in the Convent of the Sisters of Charity, but she wasn’t ignorant of the rules governing good manners. Convent life was far more disciplined in that respect than Lucas seemed to realize.

There was something else at work in her. She was no longer Sister Martha. She was Jessica Hayward of Hawkshill Manor. She was William Hayward’s daughter. It was time she acted like it.

“Of course I’m going,” she said. “It’s not as though the ball is in my honor. No one will expect me to dance every dance or be the life and soul of the party. Besides”—she was remembering what Joseph had said to her about ships and a safe harbor—“I can’t hide away here in Hawkshill forever.”

Sister Elvira finally broke her silence. “Mrs. Haig is right,” she said. “People will talk if Jessica does not attend the ball, particularly since its purpose is to raise money for
our work.” She gave Jessica a smile that made up for much of the hurt she’d experienced in the last little while. “And Jessica is right as well. It’s time, Jessica. How wise of you to know it before I did.”

“So that’s settled, then,” said Bella sweetly, and her eyes flashed with the thrill of triumph.

Shortly after, she left in a rustle of skirts and a cloud of perfume. Lucas went with her, but he returned within minutes. He wished to speak with the sisters in private, he said, giving Jessica a very straight look. She kept her back ramrod straight as she left the room.

Jessica slopped the mop in a bucket of water, squeezed it out, and carefully angling the long wooden handle, swabbed the last patch of her kitchen floor. Upstairs, pandemonium reigned. It was long past the children’s bedtime, but they refused to go to sleep. They hated Hawkshill, hated the country. Everything was different. The milk was too creamy, the butter was too rich. They loved the farm animals, but not the chores that went with them. They were homesick for the sights and sounds of the only home they knew. London.

She couldn’t think why she’d expected it to be different. It was exactly the same when they’d removed the children from hovels that weren’t fit for pigs. It was familiar, and they were terrified to embark on something new.

The children and she had a lot in common. No woman should be terrified to go to a ball. And terrified or not, she couldn’t back out of it now. She had too much pride. Oh, if only she’d kept her mouth shut!

Now, things were going to change. Lucas had seen to that in his private tête-à-tête with the sisters. They were sending to the mother superior for more nuns to help relieve Jessica of some of her duties, and her protests were completely ignored. There was more, much more. Her small income was to be spent on new gowns. From now
on, when she went into town, she would use the buggy that his lordship had very kindly offered for the nuns’ use. They were to enlist the aid of Anne Rankin, the vicar’s wife, to teach Jessica the steps of the dances and generally tutor her in what passed for good manners in Chalford’s society. The list went on and on.

So now she knew that she hadn’t been mistaken. Lucas saw her as an object of pity and ridicule. Much she cared!

A burst of laughter from the room upstairs brought her head up. In another week or so, the children would forget about London. Not everything was unfamiliar to them. They knew the nuns, and that counted for something. And Sister Brigid was a great favorite. Very soon, they would be calling Hawkshill home.

But where was home for Jessica Hayward? That was the question.

She straightened her mop and stood it on the end of its long handle. After curtsying to it, she counted out the measure, one two three, one two three, and began to waltz around the room. She dipped, she circled, she fluttered her eyelashes and laughed up at her handsome partner when he paid her a compliment. She felt light-headed. She was having a wonderful time.

Her fantasy was shattered by a slow hand-clap. Horrified, she froze, then spun to face the intruder. It was Lucas, as she’d known it would be.

“What do you want?” she asked rudely. To cover her embarrassment, she turned her back on him and moved her bucket and mop to the side of the kitchen.

He was watching her closely. “Didn’t Sister Elvira tell you? I’m to be your tutor, you know, teach you the steps of the waltz for Bella’s ball.”

She scowled at him. “Sister Elvira said nothing to me.”

“She must have forgotten.”

She was excruciatingly aware of his immaculate appearance and her own filthy apron. Quickly removing it, she hung it on the back of the kitchen door. “Anne
Rankin has agreed to teach me the steps,” she said. Her back was still to him. “So you needn’t trouble yourself.”

When she turned around, he was only inches away from her. The man could move with the speed and silence of a panther. Her back was to the door and she couldn’t get past him without touching him.

“It’s no trouble,” he said. “You’re good with a mop. Let’s see how good you are with a real man.”

His cocky grin and the tone of his remarks incensed her. “Let me pass, Lucas.”

The smile left his eyes and he stepped aside. She moved to the sideboard and began to put away dishes. Lucas let out a long sigh.

“You saw Bella and me up on the ridge. That’s it, isn’t it?”

She gave him one look, then went back to her chore.

He went on. “She must have known you were watching us. That’s why she kissed me. There’s no need to be jealous. It was only a peck, for heaven’s sake.”

And it incensed her more that he could read her so well. She thrust out her chin. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Good, because that’s the only explanation you’re going to get.”

He waited, and when she made no reply, he went on. “You’re peeved because I said you weren’t ready yet to go to Bella’s ball. I was thinking of you and only you.”

“I appreciate the thought,” she said sweetly.

When he took a step toward her, she quickly retreated.

He frowned and put his hands on his hips. “Now, what’s got into you?”

“You didn’t come here to teach me to waltz. Sister Elvira didn’t forget to tell me you were coming. So why are you here?”

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Not to have my wicked way with you as you seem to think, Jess.” When she didn’t smile, he said, “We never did finish that conversation
we were having when Bella so rudely interrupted us. The constable told me you were asking a lot of questions.”

She kept her back straight and her eyes trained on his. “Someone murdered my father. How can I find out who did it if I don’t ask questions?”

“You told Constable Clay I was still your prime suspect.”

“I suspect everyone.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. His tone was lethal. “I did not kill your father.”

“Perhaps not, but I think you know who did.” The words surprised her as much as they seemed to disturb him. She hadn’t realized that that was what she was thinking until she’d opened her mouth. It wasn’t the first time these thoughts had occurred to her, but somehow they’d slipped to the back of her mind.

His eyes glittered and he spoke harshly. “We’ve been through this before. You don’t know anything, Jess.”

The words came easily now that she’d begun to put her thoughts in order. “There’s some kind of conspiracy going on. No one wants me asking questions about my father’s death, not the constable, not the attorney, or you or your friends. Only Perry gives me a straight answer, and that’s because he’s not involved. He wasn’t here at the time.”

“So you’re still at it,” he ground out, “still stirring up trouble by asking your incessant questions.”

“Wouldn’t you ask questions if your father had been murdered?” she cried out.

“Maybe your father deserved to die.”

Something twisted in her breast, and quick tears flooded her eyes.

He cursed softly. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“My father was not as black as you make him out to
be,” she cried. “Maybe he wasn’t the best of men, but I thought the world of him.”

“How can you know if you’ve lost your memory?”

“The constable told me.”

His face was gripped by a curious tension. Suddenly turning, he made for the back door. She went after him.

“Who murdered my father, Lucas? Who?”

“Christ, do you never give up?” He grasped her by the shoulders. One shake from those powerful hands sent the pins in her hair spilling to the floor. “Leave the past alone, Jess. Too many good people can be hurt by it.”

She stared into his face. “Who are you protecting, Lucas?” she whispered.

His eyes were almost black. “What if I said I did it, Jess? Would you hand me over to the constable to be hanged? That’s what they do with murderers, isn’t it?”

Her throat felt as though she’d swallowed a bale of cotton. She’d never thought it through that far. She shook her head. She could never do that to him.

“And if I
am
the murderer, aren’t you afraid of what I may do to you? Look at these hands, Jess. See how powerful they are? They could snuff out your life very easily. You should run from me while you still have the chance.”

His voice was low and intense, mesmerizing her. She looked at his hands, at the thick, blunt fingers, then looked into his eyes. When his hands wrapped around her throat, she shuddered.

“You can’t call out now, can you, Jess? It’s too late. Just a little pressure on your throat and it will be all over for you.”

His thumbs caressed her throat and tilted her chin up. He lowered his head till his face was only inches from hers. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Jess,” he whispered, “Jess.” Then he covered her lips with his.

She was seduced by his gentleness, overwhelmed by the soft pressure of his mouth. She didn’t want to fight him;
she wanted to console him. She didn’t think he was a murderer. She’d wanted to hurt him and she’d succeeded. But she didn’t mean it, she didn’t mean it. She’d never felt safer in her life. With a little cry of surrender, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

He angled her against the door and rubbed his body suggestively against hers. She arched into him, inviting more. He gave her what she wanted. His hands caressed her breasts, rubbing them softly, creating a hunger in her to equal his own. His tongue began thrusting into her mouth to match the rhythm of his body, and where he led, she followed.

Suddenly, he released her and took a step back. He smiled crookedly. “Now that’s the kind of kiss that means something to a man,” he said. “What you saw with Bella was hardly worth so much jealousy, now was it, Jess?”

He lifted her away from the door as though she were a sack of feathers. “Oh, and no need to thank me for the lesson in masculine anatomy. Consider it my pleasure,” and grinning, he left the room.

She stewed for a full minute after he’d gone. Suddenly turning, with a flick of her wrist she whacked the mop and sent it spinning. Then she marched out of the kitchen, up the stairs, into her bedroom, and she shut the door with a bang.

CHAPTER
11

O
n the night of the subscription ball, when Jessica heard Lucas’s carriage pull up outside Hawkshill’s front door, she was seized by a full-blown panic. What a fool she’d been to think she could pull this off! It was her vanity that had led her into this quagmire. She’d wanted to show Bella and Lucas that she was equal to anything. And it wasn’t true. Her head was buzzing with a confusion of unrelated facts. During the last two weeks, Lucas’s mother and the vicar’s wife had taken it upon themselves to teach her everything she needed to know to mix in Chalford’s polite society, and now everything she’d learned had turned into a jumble. She couldn’t remember a thing. She would disgrace herself and they would all see her for what she was—a fraud. Then how would she face her kind patronesses? And the reverend sisters? And Joseph? And the boys? And the mother superior? And—

“That should do it,” said Sister Brigid, pushing the last
pin into Jessica’s upswept curls. She stood back to admire her handiwork. “Now, turn around.”

Jessica turned from her reflection in the brand-new looking glass, the only looking glass in Hawkshill, to face the nuns. When no one said anything, she anxiously searched each face.

Sister Dolores’s mouth was a round O. She stole a look at Sister Elvira, and her brows wiggled. “You don’t think …?” She patted her flat chest.

“Certainly not!” said Sister Elvira tartly. “Would you have our Jessica stand out like a sore thumb? As the apostle Paul said, “ ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do.’ ”

“I didn’t know Saint Paul said that,” said Sister Dolores.

Sister Elvira chuckled. “Well, perhaps he didn’t, but he certainly used words very like them. Now stop fingering your gown, Jessica.”