Page 20 of An Engagement with the Enemy

His reference to the old French fairy tales they’d read in the nursery to frighten one another made her smile. Bluebeard had been one of their favorite villains, but James had later used the tale to frighten Catherine and Jessica terribly, claiming Bluebeard’s ghost haunted their castle. She’d been terrified of the cellar for weeks.

“You aren’t charismatic enough to be a Bluebeard,” she said with a toss of her head. “And Bluebeard only took wives, not suitors, to their deaths.”

The gleam in his eyes made her wonder if he remembered the summer they tried to frighten one another with the darker stories from the French collection of tales. Bluebeard had been one among several of the villains they invoked to make each other shudder. Catherine had been the best at making the stories truly terrifying.

“If you do this for me,” he said, his expression changing to a rather serious frown, “I’ll do the same for you. I will tell the gentleman guests who show an interest in you the things that would most likely make them withdraw. Nothing that would harm your reputation, of course. Just something unpleasant enough that no offers of betrothal are made.”

She stared at him, studying his dark brown gaze and trying to find any hint at all that this was part of another prank. “We would have to trust one another completely to agree to something like this.”

“You would never do anything to harm Catherine,” he said without hesitation. “Hurting my reputation, or me, would be a detriment to her. I trust you, for that reason alone.”

The mention of Catherine made Jessica hesitate again, but slowly, she nodded. “And you love your sister. You wouldn’t cause her harm through damaging me. And I know you to be a man of your word.”

He blinked, surprise showing before he squared his shoulders. “Of course I am. So? Have we a deal?”

“There are particulars we may have to discuss from time to time,” she said, still reluctant to fully tie herself to James. They had never done anything like this before. Always, they pitted their wits and jests against one another. Never had they worked as allies. “If anything goes wrong, or too far, we can call the whole thing off?”

He’d given her a way out, at least temporarily. If she had time to make her father see reason, to understand that no one would want a wife whose body betrayed her when surrounded by crowds and strangers, perhaps she could secure permanent freedom from the pursuit of a husband.

“Yes. Either of us may dissolve the agreement at any time.” His gaze darkened and he leaned nearer, bringing their faces within inches of each other. Despite being out of doors, beneath an open archway, the rain falling on all sides made her feel as though the area they occupied was much smaller. His next words were hushed, barely carrying to her ears. “You have my word that I am trying to help you, Jessica. Help us both.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She swallowed. Why were they whispering? “Very well. I agree. We will help one another avoid unwanted entanglements by sabotaging such things before they can even begin.”

His grin broke out, as bright as the sun that the current cloud cover hid from view. He stood straight again and held his gloved hand out to her. Having been wandering in her gardens, her own hand was bare. Yet she put it inside his, the clasp sealing their pact. She felt the warmth of his palm through the material of his glove and realized, with some dismay, how much larger his hand was than her own.

It really wasn’t fair he’d grown so tall and fashionably sized while she remained as she had since her seventeenth year, narrow and straight as a stick.

“The next guest arrives the day after tomorrow,” he said, still holding her hand in his. “And she has an older brother.”

“A perfect chance for both of us to try our hand at this.” She removed her fingers from his grasp. “Make certain I am invited to the first dinner with them both.”

“Done.”

The rain still fell, but an agitated twist to her stomach made Jessica eager to end their conversation. She looked at the house again. “I am making a run for the house. You are welcome to return the way you came.”

“What?” He raised his eyebrows at her, and his smirk returned. “You won’t invite me inside?”

“A little rain never hurt anyone. And your home is not all that distant. Or you can stay here.” She glanced upward. “Perhaps it will stop soon. Good day, Mr. Aldwick.”

“Good day, Miss Westcote.” He bowed, but she didn’t return the courtesy. She was already running away, avoiding puddles and ignoring the feel of his gaze on her back. Once she reached the house, she looked back, and there James stood. He waved, then turned and walked into the rain on the other side of the arch, looking as if he wasn’t in a hurry and didn’t mind the damp at all.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The first evening of the Marquess Londonderry’s visit arrived, with a formal dinner prepared to welcome them. James’s mother was beside herself with enthusiasm. Truly, she delighted in the arrangement of parties, menus, and all the things James found socially tedious.

After greeting his family’s guests, James took himself to a corner of the room near the doors. He stood with perfect posture, surveying the opulent sitting room. A grand, gilded mirror adorned the wall above the mantel, reflecting the soft glow of the chandeliers. Seated on stiff, embroidered cushions of the two sofas were their guests of honor: Lord Londonderry, his wife, Lady Londonderry, and their unmarried siblings, Lady Isabelle and Lord Frederick Declan.

Catherine wandered to his side, wafting herself with an elegant lace fan. She spoke to him in a low tone. “I trust you shall be on your best behavior this evening, brother.”

James bowed his head. “You need hardly remind me. I am always on my best behavior.”

“Always?” She arched her eyebrows at him. “I seem to recall more than one occasion in our youth when that was not the case.”

He smirked and heaved a put-upon sigh. “You speak truly. I shall endeavor to conduct myself with the utmost propriety this evening.”

“Good. Because more than your reputation is at stake,” she reminded him. Then Catherine’s expression turned less teasing and more earnest. “Please treat Jessica with kindness this evening and show her you meant your apology.”

“I did mean it,” he protested quietly. “Though if she begins a debate, you know I will counter. That is the nature of our relationship.”