Lady In Waiting Part 13

"Mr. Bartleby, as you can see, I am otherwise engaged." Jenny struggled against the childish urge to duck down the stairs and hide beneath her bed. But she couldn't leave. She had to get the shopkeeper out of the house before he drew more notice and ruined everything for her. "If you do not mind, I shall call at your shop on the morrow to discuss whatever matter you find so important."

Hoping against hope that Bartleby would simply leave, Jenny turned around to follow Edgar into the drawing room, when the shopkeeper's fingers wrapped around her upper arm and squeezed tight.

"Sir, you forget yourself!" she shrieked, a little more loudly than she should have, for her knight in s.h.i.+ning armor was inside the pa.s.sage at her side in an instant.

"Might I be of some a.s.sistance, Lady Genevieve?" Callum asked, forcefully knocking the shopkeeper's arm from Jenny's. He moved his towering body within a breath of Bartleby, forcing the shopkeeper to look straight up to meet his piercing gaze.

Bartleby began to sputter, his threatening tone reduced to a mere mouse squeak. "I-I was just... well, her ladys.h.i.+p had admired a scarf at my establishment, but someone else acquired the item before she could purchase it. Just wanted to let her know that I'll receive another by week's end and shall keep it for her if she's still interested in purchasing it."

Jenny was impressed with Bartleby's alacrity with a lie, but that did not excuse his brash behavior this night.

"'Tis all right." She laid her hand on Callum's coat sleeve and he twisted at the waist and turned his chest toward her. "I informed Mr. Bartleby that I shall make every effort to visit his shop on the morrow."

She stepped beside Callum and wrapped her arm around the crook of his elbow as she spoke to Bartleby. "If that is all, Mr. Bartleby, would you please excuse me so I may return to the party?"

Mr. Bartleby bobbed a quick, nervous bow, then disappeared into the stairwell that led to the kitchen below.

Callum leaned his mouth near Jenny's ear as they started through the open door to the drawing room. "What was that all aboot?"

Jenny sighed, but turned a smile upon him. "Honestly, my lord, I do not know... exactly. But let us put him from our minds for we have a great surprise in store for you."

"Indeed we have." Meredith raced to the doorway and s.n.a.t.c.hed Callum's hand. "Come with me, Argyll, and I shall predict your future. Oh, come now, do not hedge. My predictions of the future are startlingly accurate. You will see."

Even in the light of a single candle, no one in the room could have missed Meredith's p.r.o.nounced wink in Jenny's direction.

After supping on roasted venison, a culinary choice Jenny could have done without after their trip to Dyrham, the small party returned to the drawing room for a supposed rousing demonstration of the metaphysical. Or rather, they settled for Meredith and her bag of inane party tricks.

Still, Jenny was grateful, for without Meredith's willingness to perform, the chandeliers would be glaring down on her red and puffed face at this very minute.

While Meredith positioned the young widow into a j.a.panned chair, preparing to attempt Dr. Mesmer's famed mind control, Callum led Jenny to the settee, which was conveniently, for Jenny's hot and cracking face, located just out of the reach of candlelight.

In fact, they sat in absolute darkness.

Instead of causing Jenny worry, the idea that no one could see them was most t.i.tillating.

Like sun through a window, she could feel the blissful warmth of Callum's body beside her, could hear his slow breathing, and yet she could not see him. But neither could anyone else, a point on which he was obviously aware, for he took her hand in his, turned it over, and rubbed his thumb from her palm to the pads of her gloved fingertips.

Jenny s.h.i.+vered, and afterward felt a little embarra.s.sed at her visceral reaction.

"Jenny," Callum whispered ever so softly.

The sound vibrated in her ear and tickled her, bringing a smile to her mouth.

"I am sorry aboot walking away from ye at the park. 'Tis no excuse, I ken, but I wasna ready to hear the truths ye spoke. Can ye fergive me?"

She turned her face toward his to reply and, not realizing he had moved his own closer, was surprised to feel her lips brush his firm lower lip.

She didn't know if he meant for their mouths to touch at all, or if he was urging her to lean in to truly kiss him. It really didn't matter. She wanted to experience his kiss again.

Needed to.

And in the ebony cloaked drawing room, she would.

She directed a wary glance across the room to where the Featherton ladies sat in the candle's tight, circular glow.

Sure that they would not be seen, Jenny turned her body more fully toward Callum and ran her hand up his broad chest, then over the rough whiskered skin along his jaw. Her left hand slid through his tousled hair, and without even a nod to propriety, she slid her hand behind his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.

Callum's breath hitched, and belatedly, Jenny realized the boldness of her desire had surprised him. Somehow, though, deep within, this pleased her immensely and emboldened her further.

Suddenly she felt strong, large hands reach around and lift her body effortlessly. Her eyes went wide in the blackness and she felt Callum settle her atop his lap. But she could not protest. Darkness might cloak even the most salacious actions, but it could not mute words.

Now it was Jenny's turn to gasp as she became aware of the hard bulge upon which she now sat.

"This is unseemly, Callum. We are not alone," she whispered, instantly forgetting her shock as he traced the rim of her lip with the tip of his tongue, making her feel drugged and oddly drowsy.

"Shh. No one can see us, la.s.s."

More than hearing his words, she felt them breathed hotly upon her lips, coaxing her mouth open so she might catch each one.

At once, she was obsessed with the desire to feel the contours of his body. She leaned firmly against him, pressing harder and harder as his tongue slid inside her mouth.

She felt his fingers flutter eagerly over her waist, and excitement surged inside of her as she imagined his hands touching her elsewhere. Then, as if she had willed it into occurring, his fingers began their slow climb upward over her bodice.

When his broad hand cupped her breast, she wanted to moan aloud, and indeed would have had his mouth not devoured the breath the sound rode before it escaped her.

Callum's hand moved agonizingly slowly, his fingers spreading wide, until through the gray silk, his thumb and forefinger came together around her hardened nipple and squeezed it gently.

Jenny's eyes snapped wide, and she pulled away from him, retreating to the far edge of the settee. He had supposed too much.

There were others in this room after all and only the veriest rake would dare attempt such a scandalous thing.

Oh, my word. Why had she not realized it? A wash of heat suffused her cheeks.

She had thought he was being genuine. Letting her come close, letting himself feel something for her.

But she had been wrong, hadn't she?

The walls around his heart stood ever stalwart and unbreachable.

The rogue had returned to his keep.

But then his hand reached for hers again, and gave it a rea.s.suring squeeze. "I am sorry, Jenny. My pa.s.sions got the better of me and I regret it. I want ye, want ye somethin' fierce, but I dinna wish to lose you."

She turned her head back to consider him, to see if the truth glistened in his eyes, but there was only darkness. Still, Jenny wondered, if for only an instant, if she had judged him unfairly.

Maybe, in all honesty, he did feel something for her-something more than needless l.u.s.t.

But it wasn't love. Mustn't fool herself about that.

Most certainly not.

Thankfully, due to Meredith's performance's miserable failure to impress, the evening was drawn to an early close, much to Jenny's relief.

While the widow and Callum were each handed their hats and wraps by the glow of a lone candle, Jenny enfolded herself in the shadows once more.

"Lord Argyll." The Widow McCarthy slipped her bony arm around his. "You will be so kind as to escort me next door, won't you? Being alone, as I am, I have a fear of venturing into the night-the thieves you know. Why, they attacked Mrs. Potswallow just this morn. Got away with her miser bag, I heard, but left her with a goose egg on her skull the size of a fist." She feigned a body-rattling s.h.i.+ver. "I own, I fear they may be waiting just outside to take advantage of a poor defenseless woman."

From the protection of the darkness, Jenny all but snarled at the wanton widow. Even in the low light of a single candle, Jenny could see the way her bulging eyes greedily devoured Callum. Jenny c.o.c.ked a brow at her, sure that if anyone was taken advantage of this night, it would be Lord Argyll.

Callum's wry expression was plain too. "But of course. I shall be honored."

The widow and Callum bid Meredith and the Feathertons good eve, and as they neared the front door the odd pair paused before Jenny.

The widow squinted and leaned forward, as if trying to see her better. "I do apologize that we did not have a chance to better know each other this eve."

Jenny pressed the back of her head against the joining of walls, desperately trying to cloak her face in the deepest shadow in the entryway. Her breath came fast.

The widow held her tongue silent for a moment as if considering something. "I own, if you would condescend to join me for tea on Friday afternoon, perhaps we could discover together from whence I know you. For you do look familiar and I never forget a face."

Jenny's heart skipped like a flat pebble across a pond. There was absolutely no way she could take tea with the widow. Why, the crafty madam would realize her ident.i.ty if her gaze settled upon her for yet another single unbroken minute!

Jenny's uncomfortable silence somehow urged Callum into the breach.

"Lady Genevieve has agreed to join me for a stroll in Sydney Gardens on Friday."

The breath Jenny had not realized she'd been holding slowly expelled from her lungs. "Yes, I am sorry, Lady McCarthy. Perhaps another time?"

The widow's eyes grew small as pinp.r.i.c.ks. "To Sydney Gardens... in the winter? Hmm. W-well, I suppose we could take tea on-"

Callum pulled the widow's arm tight against his ribs, and her words were left poised in the air, replaced by a girlish giggle as he led her to the door. "Come along, madam, if ye please. The night grows late and I confess to an early appointment on the morrow."

"Oh, of course, my lord."

As Callum escorted her over the threshold, the widow shot a smug glance over her shoulder, undoubtedly meant for Jenny.

As Mr. Edgar closed the door behind them, and her mother busied herself lighting the candles in the drawing room and the sconces in the entry hall, Jenny caught a glimpse of herself in the gilt mirror in the pa.s.sage.

The sight gave her a jolt right down to her slippers. Her face was a mottled blend of white powder and red skin where the facial concealing cream had dried and broken off like cracked plaster from an ancient wall.

Lady Let.i.tia laid a hand on Jenny's shoulder. "Reducing the candles to one was the only way, but I think the evening was quite the success." She looked back at Lady Viola. "Do you not agree, Sister?"

Lady Viola tapped her cane upon the floor as she neared. "Well, 'tis not for us to say. Jenny, you and Argyll slipped into the darkness together for quite some time." She paused, and Jenny knew she awaited a recounting, but she was not about to give it. "And you did accept his invitation, it seems, for Sydney Gardens..."

Jenny nodded, hoping to purchase a little more time to craft her words, but the Feathertons stared impatiently. "To be honest, my ladies, I am not sure of our progress. At times, I think he harbors some feelings for me."

"Well, he likes you well enough, I'd say." Meredith gestured to Jenny's face. "The concealing cream is completely gone from around your mouth."

The two Featherton sisters chuckled at that.

"So he kissed you again, did he?" Lady Let.i.tia brashly asked.

"Yes." Jenny sighed then and brought her palms to her swollen cheeks. "Oh, I am so confused. He has a reputation as a rake of the first order."

"Is that all?" Lady Viola laughed at that. "Well, you are right-in part. From what I know, and this information comes from a most reliable source, mind you, he has left a trail of broken hearts from Aberdeen to Cornwall."

Clearing her throat loudly, Meredith interrupted her aunt. "Not helping, Auntie..." she murmured through nearly closed lips.

"Darling, allow me to finish." Lady Viola took Jenny's shoulders and stared up into her eyes. "He dances with them at a.s.semblies, or woos them at parties. But for only one night. No more. There has never been an exception to his one-woman, one-night habit-until now. Or so I've heard."

A nervous twitch fired through Jenny as she considered what she'd just been told.

Could it be? Was it possible, that like her, he was beginning to fall in love?

By the next morning the swelling and redness were gone, thanks to her mother's suggestion that before going to bed Jenny repeatedly plunge her face into a basin of icy well water.

This was good, of course, and Jenny knew she should be happy, but she wasn't.

Dread sat heavily upon her chest making even the act of breathing difficult... or maybe it was her new corset. Still, she now had no excuse not to visit Mr. Bartleby as she'd promised. He would not have made his way all the way up the Royal Crescent just to discuss her account. Heavens! She didn't owe him that much, or at least she didn't think she did. Mayhap she should have looked at the last accounting notice he'd sent to the house before dropping it into the fire.

No, his addressing her as Lady Eros told her exactly the topic of conversation he wanted to pursue. Jenny wondered how he'd made the connection. It made no sense for anyone in service to expose her, for they'd be risking losing the income they made from the cream.

After waking and dressing Meredith, Jenny retrieved her gray wool shawl, for she decided it was important that she resume her lady's maid role for this particular meeting.

As she walked through the kitchen, she caught a l.u.s.trous glow from the corner of her eye, and turned. Jupiter! There dangling from the ears of one of the wretched scullery maids was a set of pearl earbobs. And they were from Bartleby's shop too. Second case from the far left on the top shelf. But how could the scullery maid afford-oooh. Of course.

"Oy, Erma." Narrowing her eyes, Jenny started for the chit, fists clenched.

When the scullery maid saw Jenny's face, she turned with a yelp and hid behind her plump friend, the other scullery maid, Martha. "Leave me be, Jenny. I didn't mean nothin' by it."

"You told him I was the source of the cream. Do you know what you've done?" Jenny growled while reaching around Martha for Erma, who bobbed and dodged to escape her.

Martha folded her arms and lifted her chin to Jenny. "What do you think you're goin' to do about it? You can't do nothin', for if you do, the ladies above stairs will hear what you're up to."

Jenny lowered her hands and thought. Then she turned on her heel and headed off for the door.

"That's right, Jenny. You can't do nothin'," Erma called out after her.

Jenny stopped, and glanced back over her shoulder. "I don't have to do anything but go and meet with Mr. Bartleby. But once I tell Bath's service staff who cut off their income, I do not doubt they will wish to... discuss it with you."

Even after Jenny closed the door, she could hear Erma's anguished shriek.

When Jenny entered Bartleby's, draping herself with a mantle of false calm, a bell affixed to a metal coil over her head drew the shopkeeper's attention.

A slow smile crept across his face. He quickly closed and locked his money box, then headed for the door and flipped over the water-stained wood sign to read CLOSED from the street.

Setting her shoulders, Jenny lifted her nose arrogantly. "Let us not delay, for I have not much time to spare. Last night you had the audacity to interrupt my ladies' party to demand I meet you this day. I wish to know why."

Bartleby chuckled and with his elbow resting on the countertop, he s.h.i.+fted his weight to lean upon it. "Pretty hoity-toity these days, aren't you, Miss Penny?"