A Taste for Scandal (25 page)

She knew he must have been thinking of Mama. Ever since she died, he worried whenever Jane was unwell. She smiled, wanting to reassure him, and said with a light roll of her eyes, “Well, thank you for that very flattering comparison, but I am well, I assure you. Just woolgathering.”

He nodded, his expression quickly returning to his usual impassiveness. “If you say so. I just wanted to ask if you’d mind if I went to Emerson’s tonight to study navigation after his meeting with the man from the East India Trade Company. He said it would be fine.”

“I’m sorry, Weston, but no. It’s not safe for you to be coming home that late by yourself.”

“That’s ridiculous! I can take care of myself.”

“I know you are very capable, but the streets of London are not safe at that hour.”

“But it can’t be any other hour—we close too late!” His fists clenched at his sides, and Jane’s heart went out to him. He chafed so much at all the responsibilities of the bakery. When Jane was his age, Papa had worked hard so that Mama could keep the home and Jane could be free to worry about nothing but doing well at her lessons.

She set down her spatula and placed a calming hand on his tensed arm. “I tell you what. Tomorrow, I’ll take over the shop and see to the cleaning, and you can head to Emerson’s at four. That way you can be home at a more reasonable time. Will that work?”

His muscles slowly relaxed. “Thank you, Janey,” he mumbled, disappointment still lacing his tone.

“You’re welcome. You’ve earned a bit of a break, after all. And I’m very glad that you and Emerson will have your little overnight trip in a few days. A bit of time away from London ought to do you some good.”

He nodded once and began to walk away, but something stopped him. He drew a deep breath, held it for a few moments, then blew it out and turned to leave. He immediately swiveled back around and held a finger up as if he was about to make a point, then dropped it and pressed his lips together.

Jane watched him, her eyebrows raised at his odd behavior. “Weston, is there something that you would like to say?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He dropped onto her stool and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “It’s just that Emerson and I talked about some things this past week.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what the two of them had been discussing. She’d caught the tail end of a few too many inappropriate conversations to trust what they had their heads together about. “Go on.”

“Have you ever thought about hiring someone else? To work the shop, I mean?”

Jane drew back in surprise. Where had this come from? “You know I can’t afford to hire another worker, Weston. And what would be the point? We are doing fine for now with just the two of us.”

He dropped his gaze to the counter and fiddled with some leftover string. “I don’t mean to have an
extra
person. I mean to hire a person . . . instead.”

“Instead?” Her heart seemed to fall to her knees. “What is it that you are saying, exactly?”

His blue eyes rose and met her gaze. “Just that, well, maybe there is something
else
out there I could be doing. Something that would bring in more money, perhaps.”

She stared at him in openmouthed shock. His nervous fingers worked furiously on the string, mangling it beyond use. He couldn’t mean . . . “You don’t want to work here anymore?”

Weston flushed deep enough to rival the strawberries in the bowl at his elbow. “It’s just that I have been talking a lot with Emerson, and he has seen so much of the world since he left.”

Jane’s fists somehow found their way to her hips, despite her efforts to rein in her temper. What, exactly, had Emerson been filling her brother’s brain with? “You may see as much of the world as you like, young man, when you are an adult. For the next two years you are mine, and I will not have you rushing off to some ship to get yourself killed, do you hear me?”

“Janey, I am not a child—”

“You
are
a child, and you are my responsibility at that.” She felt a twinge of guilt at the hurt outrage clear in her brother’s eyes. She took a very deep breath and tried to infuse reason into her tone. “I’m sorry, Weston. The truth is, I can’t afford to hire someone else. I need you here by my side, helping to keep the business afloat.” She needed him, her only family, nearby and not risking his life on some rickety boat, but she wasn’t about to say as much to him.

She dipped her head and tried to catch his lowered eyes. When he looked up her, she said, “If becoming a sailor is truly what you want to do, then we can work toward that. But I need time to prepare for such a huge blow to the shop. I can’t just have you abandoning me on a whim. Truly, these next two years will go by in a flash.”

His face mutinous and his thin shoulders stiff, he suddenly looked nothing like the sweet boy she had helped raise these last few years. Her heart squeezed; soon it would just be her. She wasn’t ready for it. She needed these years with him.

She reached out and brushed his hair from his eyes. “We’ll talk more about this later. We’ll come up with . . . some sort of plan of action. If it is what you want when you reach your majority, I promise not to stand in your way. Agreed?”

He nodded once and stood, pulling away from her touch. “I’ve got work to do.” Without another word, he stomped up the stairs and slammed the door in his wake.

What had just happened? An image of her brother skittering over the rigging high above the deck of a merchant ship bobbing in the sea sailed through her mind, and she shivered. She was going to beat Emerson when she saw him next.

Chapter Twenty

“Are you sure you won’t join us for the musicale tonight? These things aren’t half as fun without you.”

Richard smiled at Beatrice, who was putting her large blue eyes to good use with a bit of eyelash batting. “It’s no use, Bea. Half of nothing is still nothing, so I imagine the lack of my presence will have little effect on your evening.”

She giggled and moved to join him on the sofa in the library, her cheery pink dress puffing up around her in a small gust of air as she plopped down on the sofa. “You’ll excuse my lack of decorum; I’m saving it all up for the musicale. I have a feeling I’m going to need it in order to sit through several hours of woodwinds with a smile on my face. Perhaps I can stay home with you, instead.”

Of course, Beatrice had not a clue as to his true plans for the evening—nor would she ever. As far as his family knew, he would be enjoying a nice quiet evening at the club. He set aside the deck of cards he had been attempting to concentrate on with absolutely no success for the past hour. At last the sun was setting, casting soft yellow light through the room. Soon, darkness would fall and he could
finally
go to Jane. All he had been able to think about the whole day was the moment he would see her again. There was no denying the purpose of his visit, and the anticipation was making it impossible to focus on anything else.

For once, his sister was a welcome distraction. Affecting an air of disbelief, he said, “And miss the most anticipated bassoon and oboe duet in a decade? I could never rob you of an experience like that.”

Beatrice shook her head. “Now, now, you know Mrs. Wembley has been planning this for months. I’m certain Miss Wembley and Miss Sophie will prove delightful. It’s not their fault their mother believes the more unique the instrument, the more memorable the musician.”

“They’ll be memorable all right, though I’m not certain infamy is a desirable trait in one’s first Season.”

“I know. Poor Sophie. I saw her at the opera last week and she was positively dreading the whole thing.”

“Rather makes you appreciate your own parents, does it not?”

Beatrice laughed. “Absolutely. I’m forever grateful that Mama has shown no interest in displaying my dubious musical talents for the
ton
to judge. Of course, if I could play like Charity, perhaps the situation would be different.”

“If that were the case, you can be sure you’d be giving a concert weekly. Talent does have its pitfalls.”

One golden eyebrow arched as Beatrice sent him a sly glance. “She is rather talented, isn’t she?”

“You know well that she is. Just as you have your talent with paints, and Evie excels as an equestrian.”

“And yet she holds no interest for you. I wonder why that is.”

Richard shifted in his chair, sending his sister a withering look. “She is lovely, but she is not for me.”

“Yes, I know. I heard you say as much to father last week. But still I wonder—what about the raven-haired beauty who entranced you so thoroughly in the park? Could this be the same one who entranced you with her baking skills?”

Richard’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. “I should have known you’d be spying on us! I thought you’d grown out of that stage, Bea. I ought to take you over my knee here and now.” The little sneak. She used to eavesdrop on them all the time, but she was a grown woman, for God’s sake.

She looked absolutely unmoved by his threat. “It was completely unintentional. I was sent to try to convince Papa to join us in the drawing room for the Effingtons’ visit. I can’t help it if you chose to leave the door open for anyone to hear during such a sensitive conversation. You should be happy it was me, and not one of the twins.”

“I can assure you that does not make me feel any better.”

“I only brought it up because I am dying to know if our own mutual teacher has managed to capture your heart after all.”

“Don’t be absurd—no one has captured my heart. This isn’t a silly romantic novel, Bea. A man doesn’t have to fall in love to dance with a girl.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not—I never said he did. But I know you, brother, and I can see that there is something different about you this past month. I watched the two of you together; I saw how you were when she was near.”

“I can’t believe we are having this conversation. My affairs are of no concern to you, young lady. Now, be gone with you before I decide to tell Mama about your deep-seated, secret desire to hold a recital of your own.”

“All right, all right,” she said, getting to her feet and shaking out her skirts. “But allow me to make one small suggestion.”

He lifted an eyebrow and waited.

“Wear your light gray jacket when you go out tonight. It does so bring out the color of your eyes.”

With a wink, she was gone.

Jane scrubbed at her countertop, glancing to the clock yet again. How was it possible that it had only been two minutes since the last time she checked? She sighed and squeezed the cloth out over the basin, rewetting it with fresh water. At this rate, this was going to be the cleanest her worktable had ever been.

She glanced up as the door to the shop banged open and her brother scurried down the steps with a platter in each hand. “Weston, be careful with those!” Heaven knew she couldn’t afford any more broken dishes. And she’d certainly had her fill of mosaics, now that the finished tray sat proudly in the middle of Jane’s worktable, its purple flower “B” the perfect memento for the Buntings.

He slowed from a dash to a jog as he passed by her and set down the dishes with a thump. “Sorry, Janey. Everything is all cleaned up. I’d best go pack—Emerson should be here any minute. Do you need anything before I go?” Excitement emanated from his very pores. This little overnight excursion to Gravesend was by far the most exciting thing he’d ever been able to do.

She grinned, hoping her own high color wasn’t as visible as she thought it was. “No, nothing else.”

He dashed past her and vaulted up the stairs two at a time. She hoped the trip lived up to his expectations. One would think he was headed to Greece, or some exotic island for all his enthusiasm. A flutter of nerves shimmied through her belly—she knew exactly how he felt. Tonight she would throw aside twenty-four years of living by the rules. Would it be worth it? Would all of the pent-up excitement and anticipation for what was to come this evening be worth the risk she was taking by allowing him into her home, completely unchaperoned?

The back door banged open and Emerson stomped into the kitchen, dropping his pack on the floor and shaking his coat. Water dotted his oilskin and beaded on his face. “Blasted country and its damnable rain—pardon my language. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole of the British Isles up and float away someday. Even the pavement squishes when you walk.”

“It’s raining?” After waiting all this time, wouldn’t it just be her luck if the trip was called off at the last moment?

Emerson chuckled, his teeth startlingly white against his still-tan skin. “Never you worry about a bit of weather on my account. I’ve seen a damn sight worse than anything this country can throw at me.”

Jane tried not to show the relief she felt, turning instead to the task of cleaning the platters Weston had brought down. “Well, I know Weston will be relieved. He’s been so looking forward to your little adventure.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?” she asked, pouring innocence into the word. “I certainly don’t want for him to miss out.”

“That’s not what I meant, as you well know. Don’t think you can fool me into believing you’ve nothing planned for the evening.”

“Don’t be silly, Emerson. I’m simply looking forward to a bit of quiet.”

“Sure you are,” he said, walking up behind her and tugging on one of her carefully arranged curls. “And you regularly fix your hair up fancy for a night home alone.”

Flames of embarrassment engulfed her and she scowled and turned to face him. “What I do with my hair is none of your business. I may be stuck in the kitchen all day, but even I like to look nice on occasion.”

He chuckled, not at all chagrined. “No need to snap, little alligator. You need a spot of fun in your life—badly. Otherwise, you’ll end up like that blubber-cheeked, buffle-headed neighbor of yours, Mrs. Frown.”

“
Brown
,” she corrected, smiling at the jest. “And don’t you dare even suggest I’d be like her, though I feel that I should point out that your description was very unkind. As you well know.”

“In the battle of truth and kindness, I’ll always skewvow to truth when it comes to the likes of people like that. It’s just the old scaly-fish in me.”