Page 3 of An Engagement with the Enemy

No. Jessica had always been stick-straight, with sharp elbows and knees, and a bosom that made the local seamstress sigh with pity before she suggested stays with padding beneath them to create the illusion of fullness.

“Stranger things have been popular. Think of that painting in my mother’s withdrawing room of the woman with the wig half as tall as she was.” Catherine placed a hand to her temple in sympathy with the women of the past. “Can you imagine the headache that would cause?”

“My father blames the French for all fashion atrocities.”

Catherine giggled. “Ah, the infamous French!”

Jessica grinned back at her friend before she put her nose in the air. “He cannot resist launching into lengthy tirades about their outlandish fashion choices and their insatiable appetite for conflict. It’s as if he believes the French invented both the fashion plate and the battlefield!”

If Catherine didn’t adore Jessica’s father nearly as much as Jessica herself did, she wouldn’t have laughed so much. Even though Mr. Westcote had a few oddities about him, he was well respected by his neighbors.

With a brightness in her voice, Catherine said, “I cannot imagine being forced to wear such a thing. I feel sorry for the poor maids who had to arrange those hairpieces.”

“Speaking of maids, I must tell you the most lovely piece of gossip mine told me yesterday.” Jessica nudged her horse closer to Catherine’s side, a mischievous glint in her gray eyes. “It sounds as though all the servants are whispering the tale.”

Catherine’s hazel eyes widened with anticipation. “Then you mustn’t keep me in suspense. What did you learn?”

Leaning in conspiratorially, Jessica lowered her voice. “It seems our butler, Mr. Riley, has been exchanging secret glances at church with none other than your housekeeper, Mrs. Turner.”

Catherine gasped, a hand flying to her chest. “No, you cannot be serious! Mr. Riley and Mrs. Turner?” She giggled. “They have known each other for ages. And they must both be near fifty. Do people of their age even know how to flirt? Is that not a skill lost with time?”

“I doubt it. I think a romance between them a rather sweet idea. Especially since I have seen them together.” When her friend gave her no more reaction than raised brows, Jessica continued, “I caught them whispering by the kissing gate yesterday.”

The kissing gate was one of two points where their families’ properties connected, and Jessica had always loved it. The structure of the gate created a secure passage for people while maintaining a barrier for animals.

The narrow opening, between two sturdy fence posts, accommodated the width of a single person, encouraging one to proceed one at a time. The gate itself required a gentle push, allowing it to move within a restricted range. As the gate swung open, it cleared the way for the individual to pass through, while simultaneously creating a temporary barrier that prevented animals, such as sheep or cattle, from entering.

Catherine’s voice dropped to a hushed tone. “Do you think there’s a romance blossoming between them?”

A knowing smile played on Jessica’s lips. “I do hope so. Mr. Riley is such a kind man. He has looked after our family for decades, and everyone on the staff respects him.”

Catherine’s expression brightened with excitement. “Imagine, a romance unfolding right under our noses. How thrilling! We must play matchmakers and ensure they have a chance to express their true feelings.”

Jessica laughed, shaking with laughter at her friend’s ridiculous idea. “That would be terribly meddlesome of us. And if something went wrong? I cannot think of hurting either of them. Your Mrs. Turner is a lovely woman. I think the two of us ought to keep our scheming to the usual things. Planning parties. Confusing our families. Leaving strange gifts in people’s homes.”

With a put-upon expression, Catherine groaned dramatically. “Do not even speak of parties to me at present. My mother gave me an itinerary for the summer. The whole of the summer. Every week we have a new guest coming to the Castle. It is as though my mother decided the country too dull and she is trying to bring all of London Society to us. The guest lists she spoke of sound horrid. Half the people she invited are snobs.”

That sounded unusual. And Jessica hadn’t heard word of such an invitation reaching her home yet. It was also difficult to imagine their little village being overrun with guests more used to London and its distractions. Though she’d never been to London, she had heard a great deal about it, especially from Catherine. “I know your mother enjoys entertaining, but why go to such extremes?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” her friend admitted, pursing her lips. “But I am most annoyed by her sudden fervor. You will be invited to everything we do, of course. In fact, I quite expect you to spend your every waking moment at my side. How else will I get through it? You will come, will you not? I made a copy of my mother’s schedule, and I will send it over directly if you say yes.”

“Of course I will come. You are my dearest friend. Not even your dreadful brother keeps me away.” Jessica’s expression contorted into a subtle grimace, her lips curving downwards involuntarily at the mere mention of James Aldwick. Memories of her childhood flooded back, the vivid recollections of a time when James had delighted in making her life a misery. His mischievous teasing and horrid pranks had been the bane of her existence, causing frustration, irritation, and even moments of anger.

“He isn’t nearly so terrible anymore,” Catherine reminded her. “I cannot understand why the two of you keep this feud alive.”

Jessica resisted the urge to scoff.

“Not so terrible?” Jessica repeated. “Only last week he loudly insulted my favorite novel within my hearing, knowing full well I’d been deeply moved by the story.”

While James had stopped his childish tricks by the time Jessica turned eighteen, the frustrations of their younger years still lingered whenever she saw his smug face. Like the time James put a lizard down the back of her dress in the churchyard when they were children, making her yelp in front of everyone while her governess tried to free the poor creature.

His mischief had made her blood boil even then...but it had also lit a competitive fire within her that spurred her to meet his tricks with pranks of her own. Like a skilled duelist, she had honed her ability to return his shots with equal measure, volley for volley.A part of her suspected both of them derived some perverse pleasure from their lifelong feud, like dancers who knew each other’s steps so well they couldn’t stop performing.

“He was in a foul mood this morning,” Catherine said, tone suddenly thoughtful. “When Mama was telling us everything she wished to accomplish before the first guests arrive. They are coming this Tuesday.”

“That is less than a week away.” Jessica raised her eyebrows. “I haven’t heard a whisper of this before.”

“I have the feeling Mama meant for it to be a secret until now. Apparently, she has sent orders to York for most of the supplies needed at the Castle.” Catherine continued explaining all that her mother had told her about the preparations for a ball, of all things, less than a fortnight away. Jessica listened, feigning mild interest, but her heart raced within her chest as her friend spoke.