Her Notorious Viscount (11 page)

“I wouldn’t have in the past, but now I am a part of their society. I suppose it does bother me that they look down upon me with such contempt.”

“Do you really consider yourself a part of the servant class?” Nicholas asked in further surprise. When he looked at Jane, even with her serviceable gowns and plain hairstyles, he always saw a graceful and refined lady.

“I
am
,” Jane insisted. “There is no denying that. I accept money in exchange for my services. I do what Lady Ridgefield desires. Despite my true affection for her, and I believe hers for me, we are not friends. I am her employee.” She paused with a frown. “And yet despite all that, I do not fully fit. Not in the servant world. And not in what was once my own.”

“Like me.” Nicholas was an arm’s length away from her now. He had the strangest urge to reach out and touch her, comfort her. But that seemed too intimate, too close. Even kissing her seemed less personal.

She turned at his statement, and when she saw how near he was, her eyes widened. “Yes, I suppose that is true.”

She fidgeted her hands behind her back and refused to look at him. Nicholas frowned.

“You are nervous,” he said softly. “Why?”

Jane’s lips parted. “You read me so easily.”

“It is old habit,” he explained. “In the underground, it was a way to protect myself.”

“Do you feel you need to protect yourself from me, then?” She laughed, but the sound was strained.

“Perhaps.” His reply was stone serious, and her smile fell.

“You are twice my size, I could not hurt you,” she murmured, yet she couldn’t meet his eyes. Nicholas wondered at the reason.

And wondered why her withdrawal didn’t keep him from finally closing the distance between them to touch her face. He tilted her chin so she could no longer avoid his gaze.

“Not physically, no.” His fingers moved across her skin almost against his will, and he thrilled as her eyelids fluttered shut on a soft sigh. “But there are other wounds you could easily inflict, Jane.”

She blinked as if waking from a dream and lifted her hands to his chest. For a moment, they rested there, and she continued to stare up at him. Like she was trying to decide if she should draw him close or push him away.

The second choice won out. She shoved back, extracting herself and moving away in a few stumbling steps. Nicholas frowned at the loss of her body heat, the lingering soft, floral scent of her skin.

“We should not—” She cut herself off with a vibrant blush that seemed to color all her skin a most fetching pink. He couldn’t help but wonder if it flushed places where he could not see. “You and I have crossed a line more than once, Lord Stoneworth.”

Nicholas’s nostrils flared as she reverted, yet again, to that hated title, but he did not correct her. “Indeed we have, to my great pleasure.”

She let her gaze fall on his face again, and there was unmistakable regret reflected there. “Yes. But unfortunately one of the lessons of good Society is a bitter one. Sometimes we must trade pleasure for propriety.”

“Must we?” Nicholas asked, a suddenly acrid taste in his mouth. That was the main problem with this new life. It seemed there would be no pleasure ever again.

She nodded. “You know it is. No matter what I do, there are some things that will never change. You and I are not in the same…
realm
. And I have allowed myself to forget that too many times. But I cannot any longer. From now on we must be professional in our dealings. I can be nothing more than a teacher to you.”

Nicholas stepped away. There it was in plain terms. No matter what Jane did, some things would never change. His barbarian heart, for one. His inability to be gentleman enough for his family. For Society. For her.

An unfamiliar feeling spread like poison through his body. An ache similar to that when he lost a fight. Physical pain laced with self-directed anger.

“Yes,” he growled, turning that anger outward. “You are correct, of course. How foolish of me to believe otherwise. Your lessons are beginning to stick, Miss Fenton. We wouldn’t want to be slumming, would we? That is a valuable lesson I will carry with me always.”

Jane blinked, and her confusion and hurt over his suddenly harsh tone was clear in her expression.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I will speak to a few servants about our true purpose for these nightly meetings and request whatever assistance they can provide. I will also return to my source in the underground tonight, so you can expect another report on your brother when we next meet.” He turned away as a method of dismissing her. “Off with you, then. I believe we’ve made great progress today.”

“Oh. Well, good night then, my lord.”

He hesitated, longing to turn back and say something else. Instead, he snapped out, “Good evening, Miss Fenton.”

And then she was gone, the door to his study closing softly behind her. With a growl of displeasure, Nicholas moved to the poor boy and made himself a stiff drink. As he tossed it back in one long gulp, he looked up at the mirror above him.

In his finer clothing, with his hair tamed, he did look like a gentleman. He looked like his brother. And that was the last thing he desired, especially tonight.

He slammed the empty glass down and strode from the room. He would speak to his servants, as he had promised Jane, but then he was going to find Rage. Before they headed into the underground, he needed a sparring match to purge these ugly feelings and make everything else fade but physical pain.

But to her dismay, she had hardly thought about Marcus since she’d left Nicholas’s home the night before. And she hadn’t thought about Nicholas’s training, either.

No, it had been something else entirely that had been plaguing her. A weakness she hated to admit, but could no longer deny or ignore.

Her feelings were hurt.

When she had spoken to Nicholas about the difference in their status, she hadn’t expected him to agree so readily and then dismiss her like so many others of his stature. She supposed she should have been happy, even proud. His new attitude meant that he
was
recalling his place in the world.

One day he might very well be a celebrated member of the
ton
. One day she could watch him spin around the dance floor while mamas schemed for their daughters to be the next in his arms. One day he might treat her like everyone else did. Like she didn’t exist.

And that was what hurt most.

“I’m sorry you had to wake so early today, my dear,” Lady Ridgefield said, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “Especially since Ursula said you were tossing and turning late in the night.”

Jane straightened up, brought back to reality in an instant. “Ursula heard me?”

Lady Ridgefield nodded without looking at Jane as she motioned for a footman to pour more tea. “Yes, she was passing by your door around two and said she heard you moving about.”

Jane sucked in a breath. She had come in right around that time. How close she had come to being caught sneaking into the house! She would have to be more careful in the future.

“Just a touch of restlessness,” she explained. “I do not mind being up early, but I wonder why the break in your regular routine.”

Normally Lady Ridgefield awoke at nine, but did not rise until ten. Her breakfast was always laid out around eleven. Today, though, it was nine and they were already eating.

“Lady Bledsoe and I had such a lovely time at the tea yesterday that she invited me to spend the day with her.” Lady Ridgefield was practically bouncing with excitement. “I did not mention it to you earlier because she wasn’t certain of her plans until this morning. But I will be meeting her at Hyde Park in an hour.”

“Ah.”

Jane swallowed. Another day with Nicholas’s mother. As much as she’d found herself liking the woman the previous afternoon, it was such an awkward thing to know Lady Bledsoe was aware of the truth.

“Then I shall ready myself for an outing at once and prepare the rest of your things,” she said as she rose.

Lady Ridgefield waved her back to her seat. “No, no. She made the suggestion that you might like a day off, my dear. And I agreed. You worked so hard to make my tea a success. The least I owe you is a day to yourself. So you run along and take care of any private matters. I shall see you after supper.”

Jane blinked in disbelief. Although Lady Ridgefield was nothing but kind to her, she enjoyed having company almost constantly. Jane loathed taking a day off, for she knew her employer would grow forlorn at the thought. Now Lady Ridgefield was beaming at her.

And Lady Bledsoe had arranged it all. Of course, she meant for it to be helpful in Jane’s charge to help her son. Instead of a few stolen hours in the dark when she was exhausted, this meant she could meet with Nicholas now and have an entire day to work on his training.

An entire day with Nicholas.

A temptation and a fearful prospect. Especially after last night. But this was what she had agreed to do, for Marcus’s sake. And the sooner she got there, the sooner she would know what Nicholas had uncovered on that score.

“Thank you,” she said when she realized her employer was awaiting her reply. “I appreciate your thinking of me.”

Without hesitation, Lady Ridgefield reached across the table and covered Jane’s hand with her own. The gesture was so quick and genuine that Jane found her eyes filling with tears.

Ones that pricked even more sharply when her employer said, “You have seemed tired of late, my dear. I would like for you to have a lovely day for yourself.”

The lump in Jane’s throat was hard to swallow around, so she nodded instead of speaking.

Lady Ridgefield squeezed her hand, then leaned back to finish the last few bites of her breakfast. “Lady Bledsoe was very impressed by you. She asked about you quite often as we took our tour.”

“Did she?”

Of course, Jane knew the only reason for Lady Bledsoe’s interest was Jane’s involvement in her son’s success. But it was still pleasing to hear that such a fine lady paid her any mind at all.

Lady Ridgefield nodded. “If a woman like that took you under her wing…well, you might not have to be my servant for long. She could help you arrange a fine marriage for yourself if she decided to do so.”

“Certainly that was not the line of her questioning!” Jane gasped, nearly choking on her tea.

Lady Ridgefield shrugged one shoulder delicately, but there was a knowing smile on her face. The idea that Nicholas’s mother would arrange a match for her troubled Jane. Since her father’s death, she’d had no thought of marriage. Marcus was lost somewhere, and she was the only person left in the world who cared enough to find him. She couldn’t think of something so frivolous as courting when her brother was going through God only knew what. It would be selfish and wrong.

No, she would not even begin to think of such a thing until her brother was back where he belonged. Luckily, she doubted Lady Bledsoe would actually have such a plan.

Honestly, Jane doubted many men of Lady Bledsoe’s acquaintance would have her, even if she
were
interested in such a match. Her own comments on the differences in class and Nicholas’s reactions to them were proof of that. Even if they stung terribly.

What she had to do was to forget all that nonsense. Put away her unwanted desire for Nicholas and think of her brother. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing and no one else could.

Jane pulled her hooded cloak farther down over her face as she knocked on the servants’ entrance of Nicholas’s house. Although she doubted anyone would be watching or recognize her if they did, the idea of being exposed in broad daylight, the danger of being caught, had her on edge.

After what seemed like an age, the door swung open, and Jane tensed. The cook who thought she was little better than a lightskirt was standing there, a bloody cleaver in one hand and a scowl on her face.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

Jane pushed her hood back far enough to reveal her face. “Good morning Mrs.—”

“Why Jane!” the cook said, suddenly all smiles. She stepped aside and motioned her to come in. “What are you doing here so early? The master said you wouldn’t be coming but at night.”

Jane was almost speechless as she stared at the woman. The cook had transformed from the harsh, judgmental harridan who had always greeted her before into a kindly, almost motherly figure.

And then realization dawned. Nicholas had made good on his promise to speak to some of the servants so they could help in his training. She smiled with relief. It was nice not to be treated as a loose woman anymore. She hadn’t realized how much that troubled her.

“I was able to get a day away,” she explained. “And I thought since I have more time, it could be an opportunity to work on some of the more intricate lessons on manners.”

The cook nodded and motioned to the kitchen table. Jane flashed briefly to the night she and Nicholas had shared their chocolate there. His comforting embrace had moved her more than she cared to admit.

“Would you like to sit? Have you had your breakfast?”

“I have, thank you.” Jane was still in a marvel at Mrs. Fieldframe’s sudden kindness. “But I
will
require your help, if it isn’t too much trouble. I’d like to start the complicated business of training Lord Stoneworth about dining etiquette. Do you think you could prepare us a luncheon with at least three courses? And have the table set as though we were having a formal meal at a party? I would be happy to serve if none of the other servants are to know of our true purpose.”

Mrs. Fieldframe nodded immediately. “Of course. And I must say, Miss Fenton, I am so pleased you will be helping the master. As generous an employer as I’ve ever had pleasure of serving, but he’s a hopeless one in many things. Why, just last night he was up with that friend of his, banging away at each other in one of the parlors. I thought poor Gladwell would have a dead faint when they broke one of the vases.”

Jane stared at the other woman. “Nicholas and Rage were
fighting
in the parlor last night?”

The cook nodded. “Put the house right back into an uproar. Another maid gave notice this morning!”

Jane sighed. This was bad news, indeed. It seemed every time she made some progress with Nicholas, he slipped back into old habits.

“I would like to speak to Lord Stoneworth. Can you tell me where he is?”

The cook stared at her. “Still abed, Miss Fenton.”

Now Jane was truly shocked. “Still abed? Why, it is near noon!”

“His Lordship never rises before two or three. And he insists no one dare wake him, either. The few that have tried have been very sorry they did it. Now they heed his warning, and none will go close to that room until he has been up for at least an hour.”

Shaking her head, Jane started for the staircase that led into the main house. “Thank you, Mrs. Fieldframe. I appreciate your help.”

“But miss—”

Jane ignored her calls as she made her way to the main staircase and up to the family chambers. It was time Nicholas had another lesson. That a gentleman did not lollygag around in bed all day. In her mind, only a libertine did that. And she was determined Nicholas would not become a useless rake. There were more than enough of those in the world.

She knocked smartly on his chamber door and waited, impatience making her foot tap beneath her gown hem. There was no reply, so she rapped harder. Still, no sound came from within.

Her shoulders tensed as she stared at the barrier. It was bold to consider bursting uninvited into the man’s chamber. Just a few short days before, she had berated Nicholas for suggesting the very same thing. And yet she wanted him out of that bed. She wanted him to see that he could not behave in such a manner if he wished to succeed.

She briefly considered calling for a footman to do the deed of waking him, but the cook had said no servant dared to do so. Which left it on her shoulders. She thrust them back and swung the door open to make her way into the darkened chamber.

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust, but finally the shadowy forms of furniture that were scattered around Nicholas’s dressing room began to grow clearer. Carefully, she made her way forward through the adjoining door that led to his actual bedroom.

She had caught a glimpse of his bedchamber the day she examined his wardrobe what seemed like ages ago, although it was less than a week. But actually going inside the room was far different. Dim sunshine edged around the drawn curtains, and it was joined by the dull remains of embers in the fireplace across the room. Combined, they it gave her enough light to see better in this room than the last.

The bed was large, pressed back against the wall between window and fireplace. It took up a good portion of the room. But that seemed to be the only fine piece of furniture Nicholas had kept. A small, rather rickety-looking table that was woefully out of place was beside the bed, and Jane could see a book perched precariously on it. No other furniture filled the room. It was as if he had stripped the chamber of anything a gentleman would desire. As if it was some small bit of defiance of the position he didn’t want and hadn’t asked for.

A motion on the bed forced Jane to look there. Despite herself, she caught her breath. Nicholas had thrown some of the covers from his upper body with a low groan, and now the scarce light in the room gave her a perfect view of his broad back, his defined, muscular shoulders as he lay sprawled across the massive bed at an angle.

With a fervent glance at his face, Jane ensured that he remained asleep. From all appearances, he was, so she allowed herself what she had tried to deny in the past. She stared.

She had seen his chest before, but his back had always been covered. Now she noticed a tattoo on one shoulder, though it was too dark to make out the shape clearly. And a scar marked the other shoulder, standing out stark against his darker skin.

His body was strong from work and fighting and life in general. And it was real, just as he was real. There was nothing about this man that was false, as so many men of the
ton
were. And that, she could finally admit to herself, was exciting.

His body was breathtaking, too. She had felt his strength drawing her in, been enveloped by his warmth, tasted his desire. But there was more to his draw than just that.
He
was exciting. Unpredictable, honest to a fault, truly unconcerned with what those around him thought.