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And she wanted more.
19
Miss Jane Pagett stepped out into the early morning air. Jacobs the randy coachman was already mounted on the driver’s box of the landaulet, his heavy greatcoat on, his hat pulled low, and he stayed put, waiting for the hostler from the inn to help them board the small carriage.
At least it wasn’t raining today, and it was warmer. If Jane were to be wildly optimistic she might even say she could sense spring in the air, but she was too busy worrying about what her family, and even more importantly, Mr. Bothwell, were going to say when she reappeared. At least the redoubtable Mrs. Grudge would set their minds at ease once they saw her. With a friendly, proper companion like Mrs. Grudge they would hardly suspect anything untoward.
And in fact there had been nothing untoward, at least as far as she was concerned. She’d simply gone for a journey with her dearest friend to see her married, even if that marriage hadn’t, in fact, taken place as yet. Not that they needed to know that. And what was the harm in going on a journey with Miranda to keep her bridal nerves at bay? Even the censorious Mr. Bothwell couldn’t have any objections. Could he?
Of course he probably knew perfectly well that if anyone needed her nerves soothed it was Jane herself, not Miranda, who sailed through disaster with admirable calm. She could only hope her dear friend wasn’t heading into disaster with the Earl of Rochdale.
“You look tired, lass,” Mrs. Grudge said comfortably. “Did you na’ sleep well last night?”
“Not too well. Too long in the carriage, I think. I woke up at two and couldn’t get back to sleep. I even went down and slept in front of the fire for a while. ”
“Tha’ did?” Mrs. Grudge was looking disturbed at the notion. “And where was yon coachman? Last I saw Jacobs was in a chair by the fire hisself. Happen he might ha’ found companionship for the night. ”
Jane didn’t know whether to defend him or not. Her companion
was looking so disturbed that she thought it might be better not to mention their odd meeting.
She’d only slept in the chair for an hour or two, returning to her lumpy bed before the inn came to life, and by the time she woke up she realized how absurd her suspicions had been. Jacobs reminded her of the mysterious man who’d kissed her. And the reason was quite simple—they were both men who knew how to flatter and seduce women. She’d experienced the coachman’s easy charm and recognized its familiarity.
In truth, no one flattered and charmed her at the parties she attended. Not even Mr. Bothwell, who had addressed her father before she even knew he was interested.
Simon Pagett was an enlightened man, and he told him it was up to his daughter, a fact Mr. Bothwell found distasteful but not offensive enough to turn him away. And she’d said yes, though now she wasn’t quite sure why. She was twenty-three and no one had shown the slightest bit of interest in her. When her father had inherited his cousin Montague’s estate there’d been little money left, though her mother had a comfortable amount from her first, miserable marriage. Neither of them liked Mr. Bothwell very much, but Jane insisted she was in love, and they gave in after much arguing. She wanted a home of her own. She wanted children. She wanted a husband, and Mr. Bothwell was tall and handsome, if a bit severe. So she’d lied.
It was astonishing what a few days away could do. Astonishing to have a man kiss her with real passion, astonishing to have another man flirt with her. Granted, the second would have flirted with a tree stump if nothing else had been around, and the first was a criminal, but still.
She looked down at the diamond ring on her finger. It really was astonishingly beautiful. Her mother had jewels that were as valuable, jewels to suit her glorious beauty. But there was something about this ring that she loved. Perhaps because it felt as if it was hers. Which of course it wasn’t.
“You certain you want to take that ring off, Miss Jane?” Mrs. Grudge said, eyeing it with only a trace of covetousness. And who could blame her—any woman would want a ring like this one. “Must be at least two carats. ”
Author: Anne Stuart
Mrs. Grudge would have been quite striking in her youth, and even in drab clothes she was still more than attractive. How she knew the weight of diamonds was beyond Jane’s comprehension, but perhaps she’d had a misspent youth before she married the unfortunate Mr. Grudge. She wore no jewels of any kind, but Jane could almost imagine her dressed in something glorious, bedecked with rubies.
And then she laughed. Her imagination was really going wild nowadays. She looked down at the ring. “I have my reasons. ”
“Your fiancé must love you very much to give you a ring like that. I wouldn’t toss him over without a good reason. ”
That was the same thing Brandon had said. Why did people equate love with expensive jewels? If that were the case then the stranger with the midnight kiss loved her very much indeed, and he didn’t even know her name.
And how did Mrs. Grudge know she was having second thoughts about Mr. Bothwell? Though it was a logical leap, if she was trying to remove an engagement ring, and Jane was hardly about to explain that the diamond came from someone else altogether.
She folded her hands, hiding the diamond from her own sight and that of Mrs. Grudge. She would have to give it up sooner or later, and the truth was, she wouldn’t need axle grease. It came off quite easily this morning when she was washing her hands, and she was going to have to do something about it before long.
But not right now. Right now it was hers. A gift from a fantasy lover.
She turned her attention back to Mrs. Grudge. “When do you think we’ll reach London?”
“I should think one more night on tha’ road and happen we’ll be there,” she said in her comfortable voice. “We’ll try to find you a better bed tonight. Jacobs has been keeping to back roads, but I’ll tell him to find a place better suited to the gentry. ”
Where she wouldn’t run across a handsome driver in the middle of the night. “Oh, I like the smaller inns,” she found herself saying. One more night of freedom. One more night before she had to face Mr. Bothwell and make up her mind when she thought she’d done that long ago.
Well, she’d wanted adventure, and she’d gotten it. Midnight kisses, elopements, raffish carriage drivers with charming smiles, and it had thrown her safely ordered future in disarray. And she was glad of it. It was simply getting through the shifts in circumstance that were uncomfortable.
“I’ll tell Jacobs when we stop for lunch,” Mrs. Grudge murmured, closing her eyes. “I had such a night ma’ self, Miss Jane. Tossed and turned. ” A faint smile curved her full mouth.
