Chapter 1
London, 1810
Lady Jessica Carlton watched as the cards were dealt. Five others sat around the table in the middle of the room. It was quiet except for an occasional murmur and the hushed slap of cards. Candles glowed from the elegant chandelier, hanging over the green, baize-covered table. As silent as statues, the servants in their livery stood in their inconspicuous positions.
She watched as the players scanned their cards and tried to hide feelings of disappointment or elation. Her own cards could not possibly lose. She feigned a dainty yawn behind a gloved hand as she hid her smile. The men placed bets and play went on, as one by one, they dropped out. Only two people were left in the game. Lord Hoxly shook his head.
“Well, that’s it for me,” he announced as he threw in his hand. “I say, m’lady, you’ve the Devil’s own luck this evening.”
Jessica peered out from behind her black-silk half-mask, and smiled sweetly. “Nay, Lord Hoxly, the Devil has none, for Luck is a lady.”
Appreciative chuckles ran around the table as Lord Hoxly smiled his defeat. “Then may I compliment Lady Luck on her choice of companions? It is not every evening I can lose to such a beautiful victor.”
“Why, thank you m’lord,” Jessica said with a slight nod. “Perhaps next time you will allow me to win even more.”
Guffaws came from the other players as Lord Hoxly shook his head in acceptance of his vanquishment, both verbally and at cards. They all, at one time or another, had been her hapless victims.
After gathering her considerable winnings, Lady Jessica, or Lady Fortuna as she was known at the gaming hell, bestowed a dazzling smile upon the gentlemen at the table.
“If you gentlemen will excuse me,” she said as she rose, “it has been an exhausting evening. It is time I took my leave. Good night.”
The men rose with her and murmured their farewells. Jessica could feel their eyes on her as she left. She knew they watched with varying degrees of interest, from gentlemanly appreciation to outright leering. She could imagine their conversation as soon as the door closed behind her.
The speculation over her true identity.
The fact that she hid behind a mask, possibly covering some disfigurement.
Her nickname, Ice Witch, gained during one very long, very close game of faro played against one of the more notorious members of the gaming hell.
And perhaps, the conjecture once again that she was the Regent’s latest paramour.
Jessica could not be bothered by such idle chatter. She wearily leaned back against the seat of the carriage which was taking her to her lodgings. She had done well playing cards this evening. Perhaps, she would have to play only once more before she had to return home to Braeleigh. A tired sigh escaped her at the thought. There was a time when Braeleigh meant everything to her. Now, she was not quite so sure it did. The painful memories did not help.
Her mother’s death, her father’s remarriage to Margaret, and then her father’s sudden, tragic death a year ago had combined to turn a place of peace into one of grief. Yet, Jessica would have been content to stay and try to heal her wounds and those of her twelve-year-old brother, Jason, had it not been for Margaret’s cruel demands. It was because of their stepmother that Jessica was living a dual life—one of the adventuress out to win every penny she could, and one of the genteel daughter of an earl who dutifully traveled home from the city every month to visit her brother and stepmother.
She gazed blindly at the passing houses and storefronts. Normally, the excitement of the life she was living would cause her blood to pulse through her veins. The gaiety, the laughter, the concentration of the game combined to help her repress the true purpose of her sojourn in London, at least for short periods of time. But tonight, for some reason, a depression lay heavy on her heart. It was as if something dire were about to happen, only she did not know what or when. But she could not give up the struggle of wits she sustained with Margaret. She would never let her stepmother be victorious in her little scheme.
Jessica saw they were nearing her lodgings. Her bed, hard and lumpy though it was, would be welcome tonight. Her evening at the gaming hell had drained her. Lord Hoxly had been a formidable opponent. The Marquis of Bellingham had persisted in his advances to the point of being crude. It was a different life she lived now. She was no longer cradled in the warmth of her father’s love and the companionship of her younger brother. She missed her brother, Jason, terribly, and she worried about him being subjected to Margaret, a shrew, who cared only for herself.
The carriage stopped before the rooming house where she had been living for nearly a year. Not exactly a palace, she thought wryly as she noted the stained whitewash and paint peeling off the door. Next door was the Green Dragon Inn. The sign, hanging above the door from one hook and creaking back and forth in the night wind, pictured such a creature. The poor dragon’s fiery breath had turned to a pale yellow and many of his scales had flaked off with the paint. Not a very formidable dragon, she noted. She turned her attention back to her own lodgings. There was scant light coming through the street-level windows. The landlady had probably retired for the night and would not be pleased to be roused again at such an ungodly hour. Jessica would have to endure her dour looks and scathing comments once more. Even though the woman was paid extra for her trouble, she felt obliged to scold. At least the place was clean. And inexpensive.
She stepped down from the carriage, paid the driver and knocked. After several moments, she heard the bolt thrown back and the door was opened a crack. An eye peered at her through the opening.
“It’s Jessica Carlton, Mrs. Cooper,” she said, knowing her landlady’s suspicious nature.
There was a grunt and the door swung wide. As soon as Jessica stepped across the threshold, the door was slammed behind her and locked. Muttering, Mrs. Cooper shambled back to her room and shut herself in. Relieved that she had been spared a tongue-lashing, Jessica started for her room. The front parlor was deserted except for a mangy dog sleeping before the dying fire. He barely opened his eyes as she walked past. The candles in the sconces on the staircase had burned very low and gave testimony to the very late hour.
Jessica knew Donny would be waiting up for her. The woman had first been her nanny. Now she acted as her lady’s maid. Donny’s acceptance of the situation and her mothering during the time they had been in London had been the only thing that had kept Jessica sane and able to go through with her scheme.
Quietly, she opened the door to her room. It appeared deserted. There was a single candle burning on the table beside the bed. The fire crackled brightly in welcome. Jessica tossed her wrap on the bed and went to stand before the fire’s warmth. The carriage ride from the fashionable section of London where the gaming hell was situated, to the less respectable area of the city where the Green Dragon made its home, had been chilly and damp. Jessica had not wished to spend the few extra coins for a warming brick for her feet or an extra carriage blanket.
“Aye, and ’tis a God-forsaken hour ye be comin’ in,” Donny said from a dark corner.
Jessica laughed lightly. “Oh, Donny, stop complaining.” She threw a pouch onto the bed. It landed with the heavy clink of money. “See what these late hours have brought us.”
Mistress Donlin harrumphed and rose from a chair in the shadows. She picked up the pouch and hefted it in her hand. “And a good thing ’tis, too, what with ye havin’ to make payment soon.”
Jessica shivered. “Better I should have to return to Margaret every month with a payment than marry that over-stuffed, middle-aged baronet with thinning hair and red veins across his nose. Every time he looked at me, he made my skin crawl.”
Donny lifted a loose floorboard under the threadbare rug near the fireplace and emptied the pouch into a box nestled in the hiding place. Carefully, she replaced the board and smoothed the rug.
“Aye,” she agreed. “Sir Percival Lowry was no great catch for any girl. But he would’ve saved Braeleigh for ye.”
Jessica’s chin went up. “If my father were still alive, he would never have considered the marriage. He wanted a love-match for me and would have lost Braeleigh sooner than have me unhappy.”
Donny turned to help Jessica undress. “The Earl was soft where his daughter was concerned.”
Jessica turned on Donny. “Just because you have been my nanny all my life, Mistress Donlin, does not give you the right to criticize my father.” Even as she said the words, she knew the woman was right. Her father had indulged her, but he would never have given up his ancestral home, not even for her. That was the reason she was in London and living a precarious existence—to save Braeleigh.
Donny harrumphed. “Ye know as well as I that yer father was never in his right mind after his lady died. All that gamblin’ and racin’ and schemes to make money. ‘Twas the racin’ that killed him and the schemin’ that put ye here in the city.”
Jessica shrugged and turned her back so that Donny could unbutton her dress. “With Napoleon rampaging all over the Continent and England’s very shores threatened, the idea to build a new shipyard was the thing to do for a man loyal to the Crown. It was not his fault that the other investors ran off with the money and left my father with none to meet the Admiralty’s orders.”
“Hmph. Left you and yer brother with none, not to mention Margaret. Or have ye forgotten what it is yer about here in London?” Donny slipped a warm nightrail over Jessica’s head.
“I’ve not forgotten. I believe I will only need one, or perhaps two more evenings at the card table this month before I have enough for Margaret. The fifteenth of the month is almost a fortnight away. I may be able to begin on next month’s stipend before we leave for Braeleigh. Perhaps there will be enough left over for some of that marvelous scented soap I saw at the perfumer’s.”
Donny muttered, “Seems to me y’ought to stay in and try goin’ t’bed early. Ye be too thin. Next thing ye know, ye’ll be gettin’ sick, and then where’ll ye be?”
“I’m fine, and I am not going to get sick. Margaret will get her stipend,” Jessica answered as she sat before the small dressing table so Donny could brush out her hair. She knew her maid’s grumbling covered up her concern.
“Ye ought to find yerself a husband to take care of ye. Ye shouldn’t have to go to that gamin’ place.” Donny pulled the pins from Jessica’s hair and began to brush the long, ebony tresses.
“I have no connection. Who would introduce me to a suitable husband? Besides, I’ll not marry till I’m ready. I’ll not marry someone I don’t love.” It was an old argument, and Jessica said the words by rote, but she meant them.
“If yer father had lived, he’d’a found ye a husband,” Donny said. “And ye would’ve wed him whether ye loved him or not. It’s a husband’s place to take care of his wife an’ her family. Ye wouldn’t have t’ be runnin’ around like some strumpet all night.”
Jessica climbed onto the bed and slid under the covers as she hid a smile. “Are you suggesting that I should have been a dutiful stepdaughter and wed Sir Percival?” She knew Donny’s feelings about Margaret and her scheme, but she loved to tease her.
Her nanny-turned-maid gave her a sharp glance. “Yer stepmother had only herself in mind when she came up with that one.”
Jessica giggled. “Come, Donny, I thought you wanted me to wed.”
“Aye. To some nice lord who’ll take care o’ ye for the rest of yer days.” She tucked the blankets around Jessica.
Jessica sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever find one of those. The men who frequent the gaming houses are not looking for wives, and the women there are not…acceptable.”
“Seems t’ me a young girl with a decent name and good looks ought t’ be acceptable,” Donny grumbled.
Jessica only smiled as she snuggled down into her pillow. “This girl with a decent name is tired, so if you are through your grumping, I’ll go to sleep,” she murmured.
Donny gave the blankets one last pat, then did as she was asked, shaking her head.
But Jessica’s smile faded as Donny closed the door behind her.