Chapter 21
A fortnight after the wedding, Jessica sat on a quilt on the warm grass under a tree. Her needlepoint had fallen unheeded to her lap. She gazed back at the house—Damien’s house—proud and regal, sprawling in the sun.
This was her home now. She was its mistress. A duchess. She could scarcely believe it.
The house was built in the shape of an H, with the main entrance in the center of the crossbar. In order to reach the front door, one had to climb a wide, sweeping flight of stairs. The large, open foyer, which was two stories high, was actually on the second floor of the house, along with the ballroom, the main dining room, the salon, and various other rooms for entertaining guests. The bottom floor contained an extensive library, Damien’s study, a morning room, a parlor and a smaller, more intimate dining room where the family ate when not entertaining. On the opposite side of the crossbar on the ground floor were the kitchen and the other rooms necessary for the every-day running of the mansion. The two wings contained bedrooms and the staff living quarters.
Jessica took most of the first week to inspect the entire structure, and even then, there were parts she had not yet seen. She thought that she might have some reorganization ahead of her, but everything was running smoothly without her intervention. There was little for her to do. Out of deference to her position in the household, Hobbs, the majordomo, asked her opinion on the menus and the linens to be used for dining, but he was so competent that she felt superfluous.
And lonely.
Damien had not spent much time with her. He was immersed in reacquainting himself with his estate because he had been away for so long. He had occasionally taken her out for a ride in the curricle, but their conversations would center mainly on the sights or the history of the estate. Gone was the charming, teasing seductive rogue who had won her heart. Jessica feared that his polite but distant demeanor would define their marriage.
Now, she sighed heavily and poked at the needlepoint in her lap. The young maid who was sitting several feet away got up and approached her anxiously. Damien had instructed that she was never to go outdoors alone because of her condition. She supposed she should appreciate his concern, but she felt confined.
“Is there something wrong, Your Grace?” the maid asked. “Are you feeling ill?”
Jessica smiled to belay the girl’s fears. “No, Mary, I am not ill,” she told her. “I think I have done enough needlepoint for today. I am going back to the house.”
The girl helped Jessica gather up her things, and walked with her back to the house. At the doorway, Jessica asked the girl to put her needlepoint away for her, then she made her escape to her bedroom.
The master bedroom suite consisted of two bedrooms which were connected by a large sitting room. Each bedroom also had its own dressing area. Jessica’s rooms were decorated in shades of light blue and white. It was a pleasant room, situated at the back of the house and looked out on formal gardens directly below the windows.
Damien’s room, which she’d only seen in passing while on her tour of the house, was on the side of the house, facing rolling lawn and forest beyond. His room was done in shades of darker blue and gold. The connecting sitting room was situated on a corner of the house, thus having two walls with windows. This room combined the colors of the two rooms on either side. Jessica liked this room, but found herself apprehensive about using it. She was always afraid she would meet Damien in it. For some reason, she felt it was his room, and she did not wish to tread on his territory. Bored, frustrated, she decided to raid Damien’s library. At least a book would provide some companionship, even though it was imaginary.
At dinner that evening, Damien was quiet. He told her a poacher had been seen in the woods and to stay close to the house. After that, he lapsed into brooding silence. The only conversation was between Hobbs and whomever he happened to be serving at the time. As soon as she could, Jessica escaped upstairs to her room and left Damien to befriend his brandy. Her book would be much better company than her silent, overbearing husband.
Near dawn, a noise outside Jessica’s bedroom door awakened her. She lay quietly and listened. It came again, a shuffling noise, then her door handle slowly began to turn.
“Who’s there?” she called.
The door was flung wide, and Damien stood in the opening.
“You are a witch!” he announced. “You have worked your spells too well, Witch.”
Jessica jumped out of bed and hurried over to him. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she could not tell whether it was from fear or anticipation. Her only thought was to get him out of her room before he woke the servants.
“You need to leave,” she said as she tried to push him out.
“No,” he disagreed, not budging. He draped his arm heavily across her shoulders and pulled her against him. “What I need is a kiss, Witch.”
Before she could protest, his mouth descended and captured her lips. Caught off guard, still groggy from sleep, she kissed him back. Warm tingles ran through her and curled her toes. The taste of him, flavored with brandy, made her senses reel. Damien was magic.
Finally raising his head, he grinned down at her. “Good night, my Witch,” he whispered. Then he turned away and sauntered down the hall, bellowing for Wilson as he went.
After returning to her bed, Jessica lay awake pondering her husband’s strange behavior. He had been so distant and taciturn at dinner, she had been certain that he wanted little to do with her, that he had no soft feelings for her. The kiss he had just bestowed on her was warm with feeling. Her lips still pulsed from his stolen caress.
She turned impatiently in the bed as she tried to block out the delicious throb in her center and the confusion in her head. Sleep did not come easily for the rest of the night.
The next morning, Jessica found the dining room empty when she came down for breakfast. She had almost finished her meal when Damien entered and sat in his chair at the head of the table.
She was not about to sit through another silent meal. Placing her napkin beside her plate, she said. “If you will excuse me, Damien, I have things to attend to.”
As she rose, he commanded quietly, “Sit down.”
She remained standing.
“Please,” he added.
She dropped back into her chair. Nervously, she chewed at her bottom lip as she waited to hear what he had to say, then forced herself to stop. She would not let him see how uncomfortable she was. She was a better card player than that.
Confusion clouded his eyes. “What are you trying to do to me, Jessica? I have honored your damn bargain. What more do you want?”
Jessica’s mind raced. Except for the kiss of the night before, he had honored the bargain. She could tell him what she really wanted was his love, but that would be like rubbing salt across the open wound of her heart. That would never do.
There was something which she had wanted to speak to him about since their wedding day, but had not found the right time or the right words. It concerned Jason, who still remained Margaret’s ward. Damien had power and influence. Perhaps he would be able to help her brother. But she was not about to relinquish her superior position in this battle of wits with her husband. Not yet.
Looking suitably puzzled, she asked sweetly, “Why Damien, whatever do you mean? Have I suggested that you have been anything less than agreeable to live with, gracious, or honorable?”
A pained expression flitted across Damien’s face before he warned, “Do not play games with me, Jessica. I have very little patience this morning. You know I can make you tell me what I want to know.”
Having her husband’s attention in spite of his poor disposition, she decided to take advantage of the opening he provided. She sat back and ran her finger thoughtfully along the edge of the table as she searched for a way to begin. The best way, she decided, was to be direct.
“I have a brother,” she said. “He is twelve years old, too young to shield himself completely from Margaret’s influence. He inherited the title of Earl of Braeleigh upon my father’s death, and several months ago, we learned he also inherited a substantial land holding in America. But he is Margaret’s ward. She has control of everything—the money, the estate, and my brother.”
“Fascinating,” he murmured.
She glanced at him. Her husband’s gaze was icy. Her family was far from his most favorite topic of conversation.
She took a breath and plunged forward. “Could you do something about the situation? Could you take over as my brother’s guardian?”
Disbelief crossed his face. He responded with an incredulous question of his own. “You are asking me to become involved with another member of your family? Have you no sense of justice, Jessica? Or is this further punishment for what I have done?”
Jessica answered him with only one word. “Please?”
Damien’s face closed over his emotions. Sardonically, he asked, “You would trust me more than your own, dear stepmother?”
Jessica answered coldly, “I would not trust Margaret to tell me the correct time of day.”
Damien did not answer right away. He sat staring at her for so long that she began to fidget in her chair. What was going on behind those cold, green eyes?
Finally, his voice stony, he said, “I can do nothing for your brother.”
He rose, apparently deciding the conversation was at an end.
Jessica had one more thing to say. “Then I will write to him.”
Damien stopped and turned to her. “You may write to the Devil for all I care.”
Jessica watched him stride angrily from the room. She had been stupid. She should have known he would want nothing to do with her family. She had asked too soon. She might have spoiled her chances of ever getting Jason away from Margaret.
At least she could write to her brother. Out of deference to Damien’s feelings, she had only sent one, short note to Jason informing him of her marriage. Now, she would write to him regularly, whether Damien liked it or not. She only hoped that Margaret would not intercept the letters.