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Thirty-Two

Jenny didn’t like withholding information from her family, but sometimes it was necessary.

In the flurry of activity that morning, she’d been able to walk into the post office next to the train station and send a telegram without anyone being the wiser.

No one but the recipient needed to know about it. At least not yet.

Mr. Dunn had accompanied Jenny and Eliza as far as Leeds, where he split off for Liverpool.

With Simon’s savings in hand, he was going to book passage to America for Simon, Eliza, and Daisy.

The plan was for him to wire once the arrangements were made and then everyone would travel there to see the family off.

In the meantime, Simon had sent a telegram each to Lord Leigh and the Duke of Rothschild in the hopes that one of them could help him secure a quick license to marry.

Fanny had gone off to visit a friend , which everyone suspected was her Scotsman, before meeting them in Liverpool.

Jenny and her sister carried onward to London. Once there, they would split up. Eliza would go to the Leigh residence in Belgravia. Jenny would go to the Devonworth home in Mayfair. They hoped to arrange a meeting with their absentee father tomorrow.

That was the plan as Eliza knew it. She didn’t know that Jenny had made alternate arrangements.

Those arrangements consumed Jenny’s thoughts on the entire journey to London.

It was that telegram that had a servant in familiar royal blue livery with gold piping waiting for her on the platform at King’s Cross Station.

She stood for a moment outside the train, her only luggage the leather Gladstone bag she carried with her.

Despite the fact that she had anticipated this moment all day, she wasn’t quite prepared to follow it through now that she was here.

She gave the servant a wide berth as she escorted Eliza outside to the carriage that Violet had sent for her.

“Are you certain you won’t let me take you home?” Eliza asked as she climbed inside.

“No, it’ll be too far out of your way and it’s late. We’re both tired. Go on and I’ll take a hansom.”

Eliza argued, but the cabstand was right there and her eyes were drooping. Jenny had the unfortunate luck to have accidentally taken the bedroom next to Simon’s. She had heard firsthand how little sleep the couple had gotten the past two nights.

Jenny waited for the carriage to disappear into the night before she hurried back to the servant. The middle-aged man appeared befuddled as he scanned the platform with its passengers dwindling by the minute as they all hurried off to their obligations.

Gathering herself, she marched over to him and he took notice of her when she stilled several yards away. “Madam,” he said.

“Yes, I believe I’m the one you’re looking for.”

He nodded as if he’d suspected all along. “Very good, madam.”

“Is he here?” she asked.

“In the carriage, madam. May I carry your bag?”

She thanked him and handed it over and he indicated the direction they should go.

He followed at her flank, indicating when a turn was necessary, until they emerged on the sidewalk.

An unmarked carriage stood waiting at the curb, it’s black lacquer finish gleaming under the streetlamps.

She breathed in relief. She’d asked that he not arrive in his usual carriage, the one with his family crest. She couldn’t be seen getting into that.

The servant opened the door and a gloved hand emerged from inside. “At your service, Miss Dove.”

She shivered. She couldn’t help it. There was something about the smooth yet deep tenor of his voice that did it to her.

It didn’t happen every time he spoke, only the first time when she hadn’t seen him for a bit.

The soft texture of it slipped over her skin like silk, but it seeped inside her, too, vibrating and quivering.

She accepted his help and climbed inside to sit across from him.

The door closed behind her, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low light.

Slowly he came into focus, transforming from dark shadow to shades of black and white.

The strong line of his jaw and the high press of his cheekbones against his skin seemed primed to attract the opposite sex.

His appeal was only enhanced by the deep, intelligent set of his eyes and the perfect proportions of his mouth, lips full but not excessively so and the shape always given to only just smiling.

“I’m glad you’re here, Lord David.” She only barely managed to not look down at his…his private area. That rumor was too outrageous to be believed.

The carriage pulled out into the light evening traffic, swaying beneath them.

“How could I not be intrigued? You’ve never sent me so much as a calling card, then a mysterious telegram appears demanding my appearance in an unmarked carriage.”

“Yes, well, I couldn’t be more specific. Where are we going, by the way?” she asked, and glanced out the window to see which direction they were heading.

“I’ve given my driver orders to take us to Mayfair and then through the park if we need additional time to talk.”

“Yes, good, that will do nicely.”

“Don’t say you’re going to keep me in suspense, Miss Dove. I’ve thought of nothing else all day.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes at him.

He’d probably roused himself from a drunken sleep approximately three hours ago.

After stumbling out of the bed of the woman who’d been unfortunate enough to fall victim to his charms the night before, he’d gone home to dress and do it all again only to be greeted by the telegram waiting for him.

At most, he’d been intrigued for two hours, but that was a generous assessment.

She couldn’t say any of that, however. She was here for his assistance, after all, and insulting him with the truth would inevitably start them off on the wrong foot. He always seemed to get offended when she called attention to his poor behavior.

“I’ve asked you to meet me because I have a proposition to make you and we’ll need privacy to discuss it.”

“Privacy?” She loved the way he said that. She’d heard enough English accents over the course of the past months that she should have been immune to it, but this was him, and everything he did resonated with her in a different way. “I’m intrigued,” he added.

“Good, because I’m afraid you won’t have very much time to consider your answer.”

She had decided on the train that she might as well tell him everything.

It was only fair that he knew what he would be getting into if he agreed.

She began to launch into the story, to tell him everything that had happened with Simon and Eliza, but he shook his head and sat forward and she stopped speaking.

The rich fabric of his suit rustled and seemed louder in the confined space than it should have been.

His scent wafted over to her. It was the same cologne he usually wore, a lightly spiced scent that she hadn’t yet been able to place.

She only knew that she quite liked it. Something about it swooshed through the butterflies in her stomach.

The carriage light that hung outside the window caressed his face with soft amber color.

Her breath caught at how beautiful she found him, and she forced her gaze to the empty space beside him.

He wasn’t even that handsome, not objectively when compared to someone like Devonworth, who was golden and perfect.

Lord David had a sensual quality that weighted the air around him, and he managed to take it everywhere he went.

The eyes that looked at her across a formal dining room table would be the same eyes that looked down at her in bed.

She’d never tested this theory, of course, but it was plain to see his effect on women.

Being near him was a sensory experience for her.

She shifted and pressed her thighs together.

No doubt her absurd reaction to him now was because of what she was willing to offer him should he accept.

“Before we go further, I’d like to know what I shall receive in return should I agree to this proposition.”

“Don’t you want to hear what I’d like you to do first?” He was a curious man.

“Later. First, what will be my reward?”

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t speak.

Her mouth had become the Sahara. She glanced away again.

Twenty other options played out in her head, but she’d already examined and discarded them all on the long train ride.

He was her only hope. Picking at her skirt so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes, she said, “Me.”

The air was still and silent, broken only by his harsh exhalation of air. “Say more.”

She couldn’t look at him. Her eyes found the black velvet tie that held back the curtain. “A night with me.”

“One entire night?”

She nodded.

“One entire night in bed with you?”

He was making a meal of this. “Yes, but only the one,” she clarified.

“Forgive me, but I want to be very precise about this. One night to fuck you?”

That word lit a fire inside her. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, which was why the blaze tore through her so quickly. Her gaze shot back to his. “I knew that you would make this vulgar.”

He wasn’t smiling or smirking or anything near what she’d thought she would see on his face. Instead, he was very serious. His gaze held hers with a steadfast intensity.

“But that is what you intend?”

“Yes.” The word was a hiss as she tried to ignore what his eyes were doing to her.

He sat back, pondering her all the while, the shadows reclaiming him. “Go on, then, Miss Dove. Tell me more.”