Page 32 of An Engagement with the Enemy

“I was twelve, so he must have been fifteen,” Jessica said to the wide-eyed lady. “It was the first time Catherine and I were invited to one of Lady Retford’s garden parties.”

Which had been why James sabotaged it. Because Jessica had put on airs, and he’d likely wanted to get revenge for a similar joke when she’d put a frog in his pocket the first time his father had asked him to make a toast at dinner.

“Was his mother very upset?” Lady Helen asked, lowering her voice.

A movement, or perhaps merely the suggestion of movement, caught Jessica’s eye. She turned her gaze toward the tall hedges that made up the border for the maze.

“At first,” Catherine said, tone still serious. “But then she laughed and had the frogs removed. Mama is quite skilled at making the best of any situation.”

Jessica moved closer to the hedge wall. She knew this maze quite well, though the gardeners changed entrances to walls from time to time. They stood where there had been a break the year before, and the foliage hadn’t quite filled in the gap. She narrowed her eyes as she stared through the leaves.

“All of Mr. Aldwick’s jests are made in good humor, of course,” Jessica assured her friend’s guest, turning just enough to keep the hedge in her view. “But his incessant teasing can be a bit... overwhelming.”

Catherine sighed. “He enjoys making others laugh. But I suppose not everyone appreciates his style of humor.” The warning in her gaze was quite clear, so Jessica smiled reassuringly at her friend.

Drawing upon the observations she’d gathered over the years, she tried to speak as though she sincerely found what she said next a positive thing.

Jessica deftly maneuvered the subject to James’s literary habits. “Mr. Aldwick has a great love for books. Do you enjoy reading, Lady Helen?”

The earl’s daughter relaxed somewhat and nodded. “I do. A few pages of poetry every day is good for one’s soul, I believe.”

A few pages? Jessica briefly bit her lip to keep from smiling. “I couldn’t agree more. Though Mr. Aldwick takes his love of literature to greater heights.”

Catherine, accustomed to teasing her brother about his bookish tendencies, fell into the discussion with an easy laugh. “Oh, you mean his habit of disappearing for hours, lost in the library?” She shook her head, “I cannot count the number of times he’s been late to dinner, having lost track of time with a book.”

Jessica nodded along, adding, “It’s charming, of course, to have a man so dedicated to literature, but when it begins to interfere with his social obligations...” Another slight movement on the other side of the hedges affirmed her earlier suspicion.

James was on the other side, listening in.

“Or when he stays up all night to read?” Catherine giggled. “You can always tell,” she informed Lady Helen. “He is quite grumpy on those mornings. Late to breakfast. Short-tempered. Until you ask about his book, and then he can speak of how much he enjoyed it, recounting what he read for hours at a time.”

Lady Helen, with her youthful curiosity, turned to Jessica. “I have never heard of a gentleman devoting such time to his studies. Are his books of a scholarly nature?”

“Oh, almost never.” Jessica met her gaze with a mock-serious expression, shaking her head. “He is a great devotee to novels. And it isn’t merely breakfast that suffers for his interest.” She couldn’t suppress the playful grin that crept onto her face.

With each word, she was aware of their unseen audience. She could feel James’s presence behind the hedge, his silence almost louder than the rustling leaves.

“Surely, it’s not as bad as you’re saying,” Lady Helen countered, a tinge of disbelief lacing her voice.

“Oh, it isn’t bad,” Catherine said quickly, alarm in her tone again.

“Of course not,” Jessica agreed with a reassuring smile for Lady Helen. “How could a love for books ever be perceived as a flaw? Even if it means Mr. Aldwick has a strained relationship with punctuality because of it.”

“Punctuality?” Lady Helen echoed, sounding confused.

“That is true, though he never means to keep people waiting. And besides, what do a few minutes here and there really matter?” Catherine sounded anxious.

Perhaps Jessica had taken things far enough. Lady Helen appeared less enthusiastic than she had at the beginning of their walk, and Catherine’s puckered brow deserved some sympathy from her friend.

Jessica cared a glance through the hedge to find James peering at her through the leaves. His eyes conveyed a silent approval, and she felt a flush of satisfaction. She had done enough.

“But don’t let any of what we say put you off,” Catherine said, trying to reassure Lady Helen. “James is a good man, with a good heart. Merely a little different.”

“Different,” Lady Helen echoed, sounding unimpressed.

Jessica smiled through the leaves at her co-conspirator. He winked. Then disappeared. She could only imagine the grin on his face as he withdrew in silence.

She murmured softly, hardly aware she spoke, “I’ve always been fond of different myself.”