Page 46 of The Hidden Heart

“And where else would I be?” Jessica bridled.

“You are supposed to be downstairs, eating with everyone else.”

“Governesses generally do not eat with the family, Your Grace, especially when there are guests.”

“They aren’t my guests,” Cleybourne pointed out. “You invited them in. This is a fine time to appear subservient to me, I must say. Where is the Miss Maitland who takes it upon herself to run the household and send out my servants to rescue mail coaches?”

“What would you have had me do?” Jessica flared. “Leave them out in the snow to freeze to death?”

“No, of course not. I just—damnation, they are a nuisance. One of them is forever twitching or blinking or clearing his throat, and that Cobb fellow is a rum sort, as well. You cannot expect me to put up with that lot of gudgeons by myself.”

“You are scarcely alone.”

“I know. That is the problem. It was bad enough when it was just Lord and Lady Vesey. But now there is that sparrow of a woman twittering away, and Kestwick droning on about boot polish, of all things, and that other fellow, what’s his name, is a perfect dolt.” He broke off with a sigh, then looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“You need to dress and come down to dinner.”

“You aren’t serious.”

“I most certainly am.”

Jessica thought with panic of having to sit at the same table with Darius. “But I—it will take me a while.”

“We’ll wait dinner.”

“You don’t need me. I don’t know how I can make them any less annoying.”

Cleybourne looked at her for a moment, nonplussed, then said, “Perhaps not, but it will improve my mood immensely if I know that you are having to suffer them, as well. Now, get dressed. I shall wait for you out here.”

“You do not need to wait.”

“I do if I expect you to join us.”

Jessica grimaced and shut the door, then went to her wardrobe and pulled out another of the dresses that Lady Westhampton had lent her. She decided on the rich brown satin, which contained a hidden depth of red that seemed to reflect her hair and warm her pale skin. She left her hair in the same simple style in which she had worn it all day, a heavy knot twisted and pinned low on her neck. She had neither the time nor the skill to do up the elaborate curls she had worn the other evening.

When she opened the door, Cleybourne, who had been lounging on a decorative bench across the hall, jumped to his feet, and there was something in his eyes, a sudden flash of light, that made her insides curl with heat. She reminded herself that she was nothing to him but an employee, that he regretted the impulse that had led him to kiss her the other night, that he had been dallying last night with the licentious Leona.

He took her arm, and they went down the stairs to the sitting room, where everyone else was waiting. The furious look on Leona’s face when Jessica entered the room at Cleybourne’s side was enough to make her glad she had come, even if it did mean having to spend an evening with Darius Talbot.

It was a strange meal. As Cleybourne had said, Mr. Goodrich could not seem to sit in stillness. He gazed at the vast array of silverware with some trepidation and kept checking with little sideways glances to see what utensil everyone else was using. Across from him sat a man Jessica had not seen before, whom she took to be the Mr. Cobb that Baxter had told her had arrived later than the others and alone. He was a short, squat fellow with a thick trunk and heavy shoulders and arms. A scar decorated one cheek, giving him an odd, constant half smile, and his eyes were as flat and emotionless as rocks. He said nothing, just ate with a methodical slowness, looking around the table at all the others. She had to agree with Cleybourne that he looked to be a “rum sort.”

Leona, as always, wore a gown that was as close to nothing as she could find. Most of the men’s eyes remained on the neckline of her dress throughout the evening, hoping, Jessica supposed, that it would eventually slip that final inch and reveal her nipples. The spinster who was traveling to visit her sister, Miss Pargety, spent most of the meal staring at Leona, too, with fascinated horror. Mrs. Woods seemed unshocked by Leona’s manner or attire. She ate her meal with quiet dignity, watching everyone else and saying little herself, though once or twice Jessica was sure she caught a flash of contempt in her face when she looked at Leona.

Leona seemed to have abandoned her pursuit of the duke, at least for this evening. With a tableful of men to perform for, she was at her most sparkling and provocative. She flirted with all of them, including the Reverend Radfield, who seemed to mind not at all the fact that her bosom threatened to spill over her dress at any moment. Her throaty laugh had an intimate quality, as though she were alone with whoever heard it. She smiled and dimpled and declared the men all naughty creatures, until Jessica wanted to throw something at her.

Only one man besides Cleybourne seemed immune to Leona’s charms. Darius kept his eyes on Jessica most of the evening. She carefully avoided looking at him, not wanting to make eye contact, but she could see out of the corner of her eye that his gaze kept returning to her face.

Jessica tried politely to carry on a conversation with Mrs. Woods and Miss Pargety, since Leona was occupying the attention of most of the males at the table. Mrs. Woods smiled and answered Jessica politely whenever Jessica directed a remark to her, but she offered nothing more than that. Jessica was certain there was an accent to her speech, and, given her thick black hair and olive skin, she wondered if the woman was perhaps Italian, despite her very English sounding name.

Miss Pargety, on the other hand, was quite ready to talk, and she did so through much of the meal without stop, complaining about the mail coach, the snow, the cold, and now this delay, interspersing her complaints with digressions on her sister and that woman’s inability to prepare for Christmas without her expert help. By the time the meal was over, Jessica suspected that the woman’s sister would probably rejoice that Miss Pargety had been delayed in visiting her.

As soon as the meal was over and the guests rose from the table, Jessica made good her escape. She had absolutely no intention of being stuck sitting in the music room or a drawing room with the other women while the men retired to smoke and drink brandy. With a general smile at the people around her, she slipped out the door and started toward the stairs.

“Jessica!”

She stopped, recognizing the voice, and turned slowly. She would have liked to keep on hurrying away, but she knew that she might as well face him now and get it over with. At least there was no one else around; all the other guests were still dawdling just outside the dining room.