Page 17 of An Engagement with the Enemy

James gestured to the path behind him. “Will you return with me? Catherine will worry. I would like her to see that her brother isn’t a complete monster.”

“No, thank you. I am quite exhausted. Though you may assure your sister that I found your apology thorough, if somewhat strange, and granted my forgiveness. This time.” She stepped toward the gate.

His hand gently closed over her elbow, staying her. “Are you unwell? Would you like me to escort you home? You seemed rather…fragile. A moment ago.”

When she looked up at him, shocked by his thoughtfulness, she noted a look of concern in his eyes. Concern—but not pity. She’d seen him look at her with pity before. Once when she’d dared admit in his presence how much she wanted to see London one day. That was before she understood the extent of her strange, panic-laden fits. And her father’s determination to protect her from ridicule.

“No. That isn’t necessary. Though I thank you for the offer.” She curtsied, as a civilized woman would, and as he bowed, she turned away. She moved to the gate, swinging it from one side to the other to open the narrow passage between their estates.

“Jessica?”

She stopped again but didn’t turn. Why must he keep delaying her escape? What could he possibly have left to say? She wanted tea and a cool cloth for her forehead. The darkness of her room to hide in, pretending she didn’t possess this blasted weakness of spirit.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it? Beyond my idiocy, you are troubled. I hope you will tell someone. Perhaps Catherine? It cannot be a good thing to keep your troubles to yourself. Not when it means my stupid mouth can cause such harm.”

Shocked again, she turned around, already within the confines of the curved gateway.

“What makes you think you are not entirely to blame for my distress?” She hadn’t meant for the words to sound sharp, and yet they had come out with a bite that made him wince.

He shrugged and scratched at the back of his neck, his expression changing to one of confusion. “Intuition?”

For sworn enemies, they knew each other entirely too well.

Despite her sudden exhaustion, Jessica didn’t leave, instead yielding to the impulse to simply tell James how she was feeling. In truth, no one would understand her sudden turmoil as he would. “Papa wants me to find a husband. A thing he has never said I need trouble myself about before.”

He folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. “Is that so?” She saw the gleam of interest in his eyes. “Surely you knew you must marry eventually.”

“Marriage holds no interest for me at present.” She could admit that much to him. Though she had no intention of confiding the reason why. James didn’t know of her difficulties, and she wouldn’t reveal them to him for anything. Especially since his stare so fixed upon her made her stomach feel odd. “After the war, it is not as though there is a surplus of men. There will yet be many maiden aunts and spinsters in England. Why should I not be one of them?”

“You have a dowry of some substance,” he said.

Jessica’s shoulders stiffened. “I beg your pardon. How do you know that?”

“Everyone knows it.” He smirked when she continued to gape at him. “Did you think you and Catherine the only two in Amoret Village who gossip?” He had the audacity to wink at her. “I have always wondered why your father didn’t send you to London with us, though I know he doesn’t like Town. I thought he’d want you to have a Season or two, find someone willing to marry you.”

“Willing to—?” She cut herself off with a gasp. “As though I am so horrible, that a man must be willing to overlook my character. For my dowry I suppose.”

His words prodded her bruised heart, even if James didn’t know it was less her character and more her brokenness that would make a husband unwilling to take her for less than a large fortune.

“I didn’t say anything about yoru character,” he said hastily, his eyes widening with alarm.

She turned and went through the gate. Whatever had passed between them to cause their temporary ceasefire had ended. He had apologized. She forgave him. Things could return to normal.

If only she hadn’t confided her trouble to him.

He obviously thought her foolish. Though she ought to have expected her father’s pronouncement and accept it. Fine. Let him think what he wanted.

Jessica harbored the fervent wish that the next wifely candidate would prove resistant enough to prick James’s pride. The man needed to be taken down a peg. She would take no pleasure in any embarrassment of his spirit, only in the hope that he might emerge from this courtship season with a little humility. Still, a part of her looked forward to seeing James thwarted, if only to remind him that he was not irresistible.

Yet in the midst of his apology, ridiculous as it began, a new thought had struck her.

She looked back one more time, and saw that James remained where she had left him. Watching her, concern etched on his brow. A flicker of surprise lit her heart, sparking an odd thought. For the first time, Jessica allowed herself to imagine what it might be like to call James an ally rather than an adversary. She turned away, purposefully.

For now, she left him at the gate, content to let rivalry stand a while longer.

* * *

James stood alone in the armory, the room now devoid of its garlands. His gaze settled on the suit of armor affectionately named Sir Hop. The last notes of the music had faded two days previous, the clinking of glasses and murmurs of the departing guests long since gone. Only the echo of his strange conversation with Jessica lingered.