Page 60 of An Engagement with the Enemy

And he preferred it that way, in truth. Catherine was right. He’d go to the House of Lords and take his seat. He’d vote. He’d make arguments. He’d strive to be a man who petitioned for change in all the ways that would help the people who depended on him. But he’d rather be at home every night, with a good book in hand, Ottis at his feet, and Jessica by his side, than at clubs. He’d rather hold Jessica’s hand on a walk through Hyde Park than make appearances at balls.

Though he hadn’t specifically made those plans, the future he imagined for himself and Jessica settled deeply in his heart. “Catherine, I intend to court Jessica,” he admitted, his voice trembling with the weight of the admission. “And marry her. If she will have me.”

Catherine’s face softened, but her eyes still held a warning. “I know your heart is in the right place, James. But please, think carefully about this. Consider everything before you proceed. Talk to our father. Our mother. I cannot have you hurting my dearest friend.”

“Your heart is in the right place, too,” he said. “However, you are terribly wrong about the whole situation. I expected better of you, too, as her closest friend.” He left her gaping at him. He strode out of the study, his mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions. Jessica’s wellbeing, Catherine’s caution, his parents’ expectations—all weighed heavily on him. The path before him suddenly seemed fraught with complications, and he knew he needed to tread carefully.

What further weighed on him was not knowing what had kept Jessica at home. Whether it was a true illness, fear, exhaustion, or disgust with him, he hadn’t any idea. And wouldn’t until he spoke to her.

Perhaps he’d been too cautious. He’d left too many things unsaid. Why was he forever failing with his words? A man who read as much as he did ought to be better with them. He needed to set things right, and quickly. And he would start with his mother.

She had taken breakfast in her room, so he went there first. Outside her door, he took in a deep breath, suddenly having greater sympathy for the anxieties Jessica faced as his stomach churned and his thoughts scattered. He knocked and entered when his mother bid him come in.

She was the only one who knew both Jessica’s ailment and everything he would be asking of his future wife.

She would guide him. Tell him the truth.

And then, he’d plan his next steps.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Though Jessica had managed to avoid seeing anyone through the course of the day, keeping to her room, a note from her father came insisting that she meet with him in the study. Apparently, her uncle had something of great importance to tell them. Immediately, her mind conjured all the worst scenarios.

Perhaps her uncle had lost all the family’s money and needed to sell Fairbrook Lodge. Or he wanted the house for another reason and was ending their lease. Perhaps they had done something wrong, or her uncle thought they had, and was cutting them off.

Bessie arrived with her usual cheer subdued, her gaze often meeting Jessica’s in the mirror. Though Jessica attempted to maintain a calm smile, her maid’s knitted brow told her how pathetic she must look.

None of the things she worried about were likely to happen. Her uncle had always shown them kindness and consideration. Her aunt had some tendencies toward selfishness, which had come out strongly in her daughters’ characters, but overall, she had always been pleasant. Yet Jessica still worried. It was difficult not to, given her already vulnerable state of mind and heart.

Jessica sat in front of the mirror, twisting her hands as she examined her reflection. She had chosen a modest gown of pale blue muslin. Comfortable yet appropriate for an important conversation with the men of the family.

Bessie arranged her hair into a simple chignon, a few curled tendrils framing her face. “You look lovely, miss,” Bessie said gently.

Jessica managed a weak smile in return.

“Miss?” Bessie tipped her head to the side. “I know it’s not my place to say certain things. But I worry for you sometimes. And you seemed so happy, for so many weeks, and then it stopped all at once. I can tell you’re worrying about something, fierce-like, and I wish I could help.”

Those gentle words soothed Jessica’s heart. It always helped to know others cared for her. Her smile came easier this time. “You have a kind heart, Bessie. Thank you. But there isn’t anything to be done. I had a lovely summer, but I think I am in need of more quiet for now.”

Bessie bit her lip, indecision in her eyes, before she asked, “Is it Mr. Aldwick’s fault, miss? I know he used to vex you something terrible, but he seemed so much better of late.”

Cheeks burning, Jessica lowered her gaze to the table. Her eyes caught on the nosegay, wilted somewhat now, but the colors were still there. She ought to throw them away. Yet she gathered the little flowers up in her hands.

Did everyone know how she felt about James?

“It isn’t his fault. It’s mine.” She smiled at the little flowers, their once-vibrant colors darkened. “Will you dry these for me, please? It may be too late, but I would like to keep them.” There wasn’t anything wrong with remembering how wonderful things had been when she’d forgotten her future and James’s weren’t one in the same.

“Of course, miss. If I can’t see them to drying out right, we can press them.” Bessie took the tiny bouquet with a gentleness that Jessica appreciated. The people who knew her best were always gentle with her.

Except for James. Even after she’d told him the truth. He’d spoken to her the same. Still teased her. Didn’t pity her.

Inside, her thoughts churned in turmoil. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. If it was her choice, what would she do? Follow her heart and risk a life full of the discomfort and possible embarrassment that would come with marrying the future Baron Aldwick? Or protect herself and walk away from the man she loved?

It didn’t matter. There wasn’t a choice. James hadn’t even told her how he felt, or if he wished to court her. He’d been friendly and flirtatious. An ally in their game to avoid matrimony. But had she seen marks of affection in his actions where he’d likely intended none?

She rose from the dressing table and took hold of the pendant she wore, sliding it back and forth on its chain as she made her way to her father’s study.

James had proven himself kind, loyal, and steadfast. He had seen her at her most vulnerable and never turned away. It wasn’t his fault she yearned for more.