Page 8 of An Engagement with the Enemy

Jessica’s chin lifted. “You speak of people as though they are of no consequence. As if one lady is as interchangeable as a wagon wheel.”

James hid his grin behind a lazy shrug. He’d hit upon one of Jessica Westcote’s most passionate views. She believed all men looked down upon women as a whole, and she never failed to engage in verbal battles with anyone who voiced an opinion that came close to confirming that belief.

“You mustn’t mind a word he says.” Catherine put a hand on her friend’s arm, as though ready to physically restrain her if necessary. “James is obviously in a poor temper. I think he means to drag you into it with him.”

“Drag her?” James scoffed. “I would never dream of forcing Miss Westcote to occupy the same space with me. Indeed, I would prefer the opposite.” He tucked his hands behind his back and changed the subject. “Why are you not dancing, Catherine? We cannot both abandon the ball. Our parents will notice and come searching.”

“As I am not the one they are trying to marry off—”

“Yet,” he inserted.

She glowered at him. “—I doubt they will mind my absence the way they will yours.” She snapped her fan open. “You didn’t even like Lady Emily. I cannot understand why you are out here sulking as though her rejection wounded you.”

He bristled. “I would have had to make an offer for there to be a rejection.”

A sudden, short laugh escaped Jessica. “That is why you are here, then. Your pride is wounded because you did not even come close to that point.”

“Must you really interject yourself where you are not wanted?” he asked, giving Jessica a meaningful stare, full of the weariness she caused him on a near regular basis. “Haven’t you anyone else you can annoy at present? Some gentleman to lecture or matron to befriend?”

Jessica pulled back at the same moment she drew herself up into a defiant posture. “There are a dozen people, nay, a hundred, I would rather speak to than stand here and trade unpleasant words with you. I am here to support Catherine; it is merely an unfortunate circumstance that links my favorite person in the kingdom to someone I loathe.”

“The unfortunate circumstance being my existence?”

“Quite.”

Catherine sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “That is enough from both of you. Jessica, let us return to the ball. James, stop trying to hide. You will only make things worse for yourself.” She turned on her heel and walked back the way they had come, but Jessica remained a second longer to glower at James before she followed.

James smirked as they withdrew, his gaze involuntarily lingering on Jessica’s gown and the captivating figure she possessed. He couldn’t deny the allure she exuded, her tall and slender form reminiscent of a graceful Grecian column. It was a shame, he mused inwardly, that such an enchanting exterior was accompanied by a frigid demeanor, as if her heart were carved from unyielding marble. Though, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a flicker of warmth hidden beneath that icy façade, especially given the friendship shared by Jessica and his sister.

He let his eyes follow their path up to the Armory doors, where he found his mother standing and looking out into the night, searching for him. He gave Sir Hop one last commiserating look. “My apologies, old chap. It seems I am wanted elsewhere.”

He patted the suit of armor on the shoulder, then made his way back to the ball. Where he would receive sympathetic glances, and Lady Emily would maneuver to keep to the opposite side of the room from him the rest of the evening.

CHAPTER FOUR

The Honorable Thomas Westcote, Jessica’s father, had kept a lease on property that belonged to his brother, the Earl of Wyndham, since the first year of his marriage. This meant the house, gardens, and farmland of Fairbrook Lodge were all part of Jessica’s home, and well-beloved by her.

When she awoke the day after the ball, she stood at the same window as she had every morning. The window that had been hers since she left the nursery. Facing southward, her gaze traveled over the gardens, stretching down a hill, across a small wood, and then up again to the top of Amoret Castle’s tallest chimney.

She unlatched the window and opened it inward, then took in a deep breath of the late-morning air.

“Good morning, miss.” Her maid, Bessie Albright, came into the room with a freshly pressed gown draped over her arm. “It’s nearly noon. But I sp’ose you were that tired, dancing all night at the castle.”

“Can one ever be weary from dancing?” Jessica left the open window with a small twirl, then curtsied elegantly to her maid. “If we must blame something for my fatigue, let us pick something less enjoyable. Such as the less than stimulating conversation I had to make with other guests.”

Bessie laid the dress on the bed, then approached with hands out. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy gossiping with your neighbors and friends?”

“Of course I don’t mean anyone we know.” Jessica raised her arms as her maid assisted her in removing her nightgown. Left in a thin chemise, she went behind the screen that hid a basin and pitcher for her use in washing away the last particles of sleep. She kept speaking from behind the screen as she used a cloth to scrub herself over with the cold water. “I meant Lady Emily’s party of snobs. Did you hear how many servants they brought? Ten. Who travels with so many servants? And those were the governess, maids, and a hairdresser, expected to stay in the house. There were also five servants to keep their coaches and horses. Six horses, mind you, and two coaches. Then the lady, her parents, her younger brother, and two dogs. Sweet little things, the dogs. The rest of the party hardly made a favorable impression.”

Bessie’s voice carried through the room with amusement. “I heard from the Amoret folk that the dogs had their own servant, and they hand-fed the creatures minced duck and quail eggs.”

Jessica finished her morning ablutions and came out again to put on her stays. She kept her posture straight and her hands on her hips as Bessie laced up the back.

“They were not the worst people I have ever met,” Jessica conceded. “For an earl’s daughter, especially.” Jessica had five female cousins, all daughters of the same earl who owned the land on which she lived. This made her rather intimately acquainted with the behavior one could expect from the female offspring of an earl.

For Bessie’s part, Jessica’s maid possessed a wisdom that belied her youth, though she was two years Jessica’s junior. Perhaps it was a result of her mother’s nurturing who had always imparted invaluable wisdom.

In stark contrast, Jessica’s own upbringing had been marked by absence. The untimely passing of her mother when she was a mere four years old had left a void in her life, a void that had not been filled by conventional teachers.