Page 49 of An Engagement with the Enemy

“This fair seems important to you,” he noted, looking down at the handkerchief in his hand. He folded it into a small square, wishing he hadn’t let her move away, yet relieved he had. Another moment standing so close, he would have succumbed to the desire to kiss her. Already, he wondered what her lips would feel like pressed to his. But this wasn’t the time or place, and she didn’t need a romantic hero. She needed a friend.

“I am tired of missing what others enjoy,” she whispered, this time with a wistful smile on her face. “I don’t expect to ever go to London and take the Ton by storm, of course. I would be content enough to go to York, to attend theatricals, to experience new things and meet new people. I want those things, even though they sometimes seem impossible. But no one will let me try. Not unless I can prove I have a greater measure of control than I have displayed thus far.”

A sad laugh followed her words, and Jessica twisted her fingers in the fringe of her shawl. “Today was a disaster on that account.”

“You were left alone.” That was clear enough to him. “Had Tom stayed near, he’d have given you reassurance. Stability. You liken what you feel in those uncertain situations to drowning. When he disappeared, so did the rope that gave you reassurance you could find land again.”

Jessica’s gaze came to his again, her eyes widening. “Tom doesn’t really know. We haven’t told him, you see. The difference in our ages, in our paths, didn’t make it necessary.”

“I’m not blaming him. Well. Not entirely.” James tucked the handkerchief away and then took her hand. It was easier this time. “Let me escort you tomorrow. Let me be your line to safety.”

“But your father’s guests—”

“Arrived yesterday, yes. And your cousins today. What do they matter? I will be at your door before you have finished breakfast.” His father wouldn’t like James disappearing, but after doing everything his father asked for most of the summer, James saw nothing wrong with taking a day for himself, to do precisely as he wished, with precisely who he wished. “And I will walk with you to the fair. I will be at your beck and call, your disposal, in whatever way you wish or need.”

“And if I fail?” she asked, turning away. “If I fall into hysterics, or a swoon, or cry?”

James stopped resisting the urge to take her in his arms. He gave in. Tugging her gently around, guiding her into his embrace with one arm going about her shoulders and the other her waist as he laid his cheek against her forehead. She smelled of vanilla and jasmine, of the summer-softened night around them. She stiffened only a moment before resting her cheek against his chest.

“I’ll be there. I’ll not let anyone see what you do not wish them to see, sweeping you away, where you can compose yourself in private, give way to tears, rest, or what have you. Then I will give you my arm, when you are ready, and take you out into the world again. As many times as necessary. You will not fail, Jess. Not when you want something. I have years of experience of watching you achieve many things.”

Nestled against him, she took in a deep breath and nodded against his chest. “Thank you, James. I’m grateful you’re my friend.”

His heart fell, but he didn’t let the sudden pain of that word dash his hopes. They had been enemies for so long. He could be her friend for a while. Forever, in truth. And perhaps something more, in due time.

“You need your rest,” he told her, relaxing his hold and stepping away. “Tomorrow is an important day. Off with you. I’ll leave when I know you’re safely inside.”

“And how will you know that, exactly?” she asked with a grin. “Am I to signal you from my room?”

“Indeed. Light a candle, put it in your window, and then I will creep back through enemy territory to my own rest.”

Her soft laughter lingered in the night air and in his heart long after she’d slipped away through the darkness. He waited, watching the windows of the Lodge until a flickering candle appeared in Jessica’s window. Then he withdrew, his own lamp quite dim. He doubted he would sleep. And if he did, he would dream of Jessica in his arms.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The day ahead seemed brighter than the one before, knowing, as Jessica did, that she would not face the crowds alone. As she stood at her window, she thought back on what had worked in the past. The ways her governess, her father, and even Catherine had helped her navigate the most difficult moments at assembly balls, Christmas parties, and even sermons on Sundays when her agitation rose for no reason she could understand.

“I must gather my fortitude and present my best self,” she murmured to her reflection in the glass. “If I feel faint, it is a small matter to ask to sit for a moment and collect myself. I need not be over-set by the crowds, because I can withdraw to quieter places if necessary.”

She twisted the end of her braid, then snatched her fingers away. Wrapping her hands in ribbons and string helped, sometimes, but it also gave away her nervousness. She turned to her dressing table and opened one of the drawers, searching through it until she found a bracelet with beads that spun easily. Then she went in search of a pendant that sild easily on its chain.

A lady could play with her jewelry quite subtly.

“I will not be ruled by my nerves,” she said, undoing the necklace’s clasp and putting it on. “I will rise above them. And James will help.”

She stilled and looked up at herself in the mirror, noting her pink chinks. Memories from the night before flooded her mind. She couldn’t help conjuring James’s face, his expression so open and earnest as he listened to her deepest shames. The gentle touch of his fingers on her skin. The way he had pulled her close, one hand tenderly cradling the back of her head as she accepted his comforting embrace.

Jessica’s heart quickened at the recollection. She had confessed her most vulnerable self, and he had responded with care, not judgment.

But such acceptance couldn’t hint at any romantic intention, could it? James would have been as kind to his sister. Jessica was no more than a friend in distress. Surely, compassion alone had dictated his actions.

And yet, when she allowed her thoughts to linger on the steadiness of his arms around her, the strength and warmth of his embrace, Jessica’s breath caught. In that moment, she had felt cherished. Seen not as odd or unstable, but as someone worthy of tenderness and care.

A bittersweet longing filled her heart.

Bessie arrived, and Jessica tried to put James from her mind, engaging her maid in cheerful conversation. All the servants had been given certain hours away from their duties, to better enjoy the festivities in turns. The last day of the fair, many of them would take a half day, too. Everyone, from stable hand to the baron’s noblest guest, would have ample opportunity to enjoy the sights and sounds of a summer celebration.

When Bessie left, leaving Jessica dressed and ready but for having breakfast, her thoughts went back to James. His perceived intentions warred in her mind.