Page 10 of His Perfect Bride (Bride Ships: New Voyages #3)

Ten

“I still don’t know how you convinced Jackson to get a haircut and shave.” Augusta sat stiffly on the stool in front of the dressing table.

Behind her, Sage pressed a sponge with bandoline over Augusta’s finished coiffure to hold the elaborate style in place as she prepared for the dinner party. The clear, gummy mixture was scented with orange flower and worked wonders at preventing Augusta’s hair from becoming frizzy, as well as holding in the florets woven throughout the arrangement.

The bedchamber was alight with sconces and lanterns, illuminating the gilded mirror and Augusta’s reflection. In her new gown of the loveliest pale gold, Augusta shimmered like gold herself.

Sage had never seen the woman so radiant or so happy, so much that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shining.

“Tell me your secret in getting Jackson to do whatever you want him to.” Augusta held up a pearl earring to her ear and then waited for Sage’s input.

“I have no secret.” Sage shook her head at Augusta’s choice and then pointed to the delicate gold flower earrings which were more elegant and matched the gown better.

Augusta placed the pearl back on the fluted crystal dish on the dressing table among an array of additional jewelry she’d brought with her from England. “You most certainly have cast a spell over him.”

“There’s no spell either, ma’am.” Sage could feel that strange warmth starting to flutter low in her stomach—the one that had been creeping out from time to time since the haircut yesterday, especially whenever she saw Jackson, even from a distance.

The warm flutters had turned into steadily crashing waves the few times he’d sought her out and talked to her during the past twenty-four hours. Just this morning, he’d asked her again for some advice in organizing another group of diagrams that he’d unearthed from a closet.

Although she’d been busy ironing linen napkins for the dinner party, she’d wanted to help him and had taken much more time than she should have in his study, talking about the old designs he’d once made.

Throughout it all, she’d tried not to pay attention to how he looked. In fact, she’d even attempted to visualize him as a shaggy beast again so that she wouldn’t think about how sharply attractive he was. But invariably, every time she was around him, she couldn’t keep from admiring him and everything about his appearance.

Now, as the dinner hour ticked closer, Sage was wavering between dread and desire in seeing him again. But she’d never, ever admit to Augusta that Jackson was the one with the secret in getting her to do whatever he wanted and that Jackson was the one casting a spell over her.

“Well,” Augusta said as she picked up the gold earring and began to fasten it. “You’ve worked a miracle for which I’m grateful.”

“You’re the one who worked the miracle by coming here and giving him the gentle push he needed to start living again.”

Augusta didn’t respond as she reached for the second earring.

At a soft knock on the door, Augusta paused. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Jackson stepped inside, wearing a black formal suit with tailcoat, along with a ruffled white shirt and black tie. With his hair slicked back with pomade and his face still cleanly shaven, he was the picture of the perfect gentleman. No doubt he was the handsomest man in the colony now. The young women in attendance tonight would vie for his attention.

With a stiff, polite posture, he paused in the center of the room where the light seemed to shine directly on him, giving Sage an even better view of his features—the hard lines of his jaw, the angled cheekbones, the smooth chin.

“Good evening, Augusta.” He spoke to his sister, but his gaze fell upon Sage. It fell with a magnetism that tugged at her and tore down her resistance—if she had any left. He was studying her face like he’d taken to doing, as if he were exploring uncharted territory.

The attention was growing more intense with every interaction, and Sage didn’t quite know what to make of it. What would Augusta say if she realized Jackson was looking at her so often?

Regardless of what Augusta might or might not notice, Sage couldn’t keep the warm waves in her stomach from tossing back and forth.

“You look fabulous, Jackson,” Augusta said as she peered at her reflection and straightened her earrings.

“Thank you.” He darted a glance at Augusta before returning his gaze to Sage. “You do too.”

Augusta reached for a crystal perfume bottle, lifted the top, and then dabbed the stopper onto her wrist. “You’re all ready for this evening, then?”

“Yes.” He stood awkwardly, as if he wanted to say something to Sage, but then he glanced at Augusta. “I have this for you.” He held out his hand to reveal a gold bangle. Inlaid with several colorful jade stones, it looked as though it was made of real gold. Maybe it was.

Seeing the gift in the mirror, Augusta drew in a surprised breath and pivoted on her bench. “It’s lovely, Jackson.”

He crossed to his sister and tenderly slipped the bangle on her outstretched arm. “It’s not as lovely as you. But I wanted you to have it as a token of my thanks for all you’ve done for me these past weeks.”

Jackson only stayed a few minutes longer, making small talk to Augusta about the guests who would be coming that evening. Only after he left the chamber did Sage start breathing evenly again.

“Is there something going on between you and Jackson?” Augusta’s question was as forthright as always, and even though she spoke it quietly, it seemed to echo in the room.

Sage paused in hanging Augusta’s dressing robe back in the wardrobe, and her gaze shot to the chamber door. She prayed Jackson wasn’t out in the hallway where he could hear Augusta’s bold question.

“You may as well tell me the truth.” Augusta was peering at her in the mirror.

“No, there’s nothing.” The emotion drained from Sage, leaving her blood cold. “I assure you that I would never encourage his affection.”

Augusta held her gaze for several moments before nodding. “He vowed to me that he wouldn’t toy with you…”

“He’s not, ma’am.” When had Augusta had a conversation with Jackson like that? Why would the two of them discuss her? “He looks at me once in a while. That’s all.”

“And you look at him.”

Sage started to shake her head then stopped. “I’m trying not to.”

“Then you’re attracted to him?”

“As I said, I am not encouraging anything?—”

“Do you like Jackson?”

“As an employer and as your brother.” At least that’s what she hoped was true. She didn’t like him as more, did she?

“You’ve been good for him.” Augusta continued to twirl the new bangle. “His moodiness doesn’t frighten you. Neither does his intelligence nor his messiness nor his temper.”

“I regret I was presumptuous in my rebuking him.”

“No, no, no. You’re fine.” Augusta waved a dismissive hand then stood. “He needs someone who isn’t afraid to confront him and be honest with him.”

Sage’s racing thoughts came to a halt. That someone could never be her, could it? “You can’t really think anything would happen with…” She couldn’t even associate herself with Jackson. The prospect of being with him was simply too preposterous to consider for even an instant.

“I hope you know me well enough by now to understand that I would never let class stand in the way of love.”

Sage opened her mouth to respond but then closed it. What could she possibly say to that? Augusta had shown herself to be fair-minded, always trying to make her feel like a friend and less like a servant.

But the fact was, Sage was a lady’s maid. There was no changing the fact.

“I won’t tolerate a dalliance,” Augusta said firmly. “But a real relationship…?”

No matter how fair Augusta was and no matter what she might be insinuating, Sage had already made up her mind about marriage. “I’m not interested in having a relationship with any fellow.”

Not with the shopkeepers who flirted with her whenever she went out with Augusta. Not with any of the miners who swarmed the town and tried to talk to her. Not with fishermen or stevedores or other locals who stared at her when she passed by. Most certainly not with an aristocrat who was from a different world and way of life altogether.

“As I told you, you’re not meant to be a spinster.” Augusta started toward the door. “So put the idea from your mind.”

“You like being a spinster?—”

Augusta halted so abruptly that Sage didn’t finish her thought, especially because Augusta turned with one of her most severe gazes. “Let me be clear about one thing. I have made peace with being a spinster, but I would gladly give up my independence and traveling to be with a man who loves me.”

Was there more to Augusta’s story than she’d told Sage? Maybe Augusta had once been in a passionate and loving relationship that hadn’t worked out. Maybe she was filled with regrets. Or maybe she’d lost the love of her life and never found anyone else who could compare.

A glint formed in Augusta’s eyes. “Perhaps you need to be put into a situation where you can give love a chance to grow.”

“What does that mean?” Sage didn’t like the glint. It meant Augusta was planning something.

Augusta shrugged, then with a small smile, she turned to go.

“Please, Augusta. Please don’t meddle in my love life.”

Augusta swung open the door. “What love life?”

Now who was toying with whom? Augusta knew what Sage meant, but clearly she had to spell it out. “I’m not interested in Jackson in that way.” Even as Sage said the words, they rang hollow. She couldn’t deny the strange reactions she’d been having to him that were now growing in strength. But even if she couldn’t deny the reactions, she could put a stop to them, or at least make sure they didn’t develop into more.

Augusta stepped into the hallway and began to close the door. She paused with the door only a few inches wide. “Someday you’ll thank me.”

Before Sage could respond, Augusta closed the door.

Sage stared at the door for at least a full minute, unsure what to think or feel. With her thoughts in a jumble, she finished tidying Augusta’s chamber. Then she went down the servants’ back stairway to the kitchen to be of assistance to Gustave. Augusta had hired two more men for the evening to help serve the meal. But Gustave still had a great deal to do on his own and Sage offered to help him.

Several hours later, when the meal was over, the dishes washed, and the kitchen in order, Sage retrieved her shawl then made her way to the backyard.

The house was brightly lit, every window aglow, providing enough light for Sage to meander through the trees and shrubs with the cup of coffee and pastry Gustave had given her to show his appreciation.

Lovely strains of piano music filtered through one of the open side windows. The dinner party was still ongoing with drinks and desserts being served, which meant Augusta wouldn’t need her for a while longer, not until after the guests left.

For now, Sage could take a rare break. With all that Augusta had spoken earlier, Sage needed a quiet moment to try to make sense of all her thoughts.

She wandered back until she found the smooth-topped boulder where she’d sat at other times over the past few weeks. Sipping the coffee and nibbling on the delicate Danish, she peered up at the clear sky filled with countless stars. Every time she viewed the stars, both awe and sadness filled her—awe that she was able to witness the beauty of the endless array of twinkling lights, but sadness that her sisters and Dad were stuck in Manchester with its dirty, polluted sky.

Tomorrow, though, she’d finally get to see Willow, and together they’d work out a plan for bringing their family to Vancouver Island just as soon as possible. Thankfully, Augusta hadn’t forgotten about the plans to travel with Sage to Salt Spring Island the day after the party and had offered to help find a private transport, perhaps a fisherman, to row them there.

Sage smiled. Willow would be surprised to see her. No doubt her sister would shriek, rush at her, and squeeze her until she couldn’t breathe. The reunion would be wonderful, even if it would be a little humiliating to share the details of David’s rejection.

Sage shivered and took another sip of her coffee. At a clinking somewhere nearby, she halted. A soft grunt was followed by the clank of metal, and it was coming from the Firths’ yard just beyond the shrubs.

Was someone in trouble?

She slid off her perch on the stone and tiptoed through the grass until she reached a spot in the shrubs where she could view the neighbors’ yard. The darkness kept her from seeing much at first. But after a moment as her eyes adjusted, she glimpsed a young woman in a maid’s uniform with a small garden trowel digging in the earth.

Was it Juliet?

As the woman tossed down the trowel, a shaft of moonlight revealed unruly red hair underneath a lacy maid’s cap instead of Juliet’s blond hair. This woman was also much slighter and waiflike compared to Juliet.

The maid knelt and tugged something out of the earth. She rested the item on her lap, then glanced around the yard, as though making sure no one else was there.

Sage held her breath as the maid’s gaze passed over the brush that concealed her. Did she sense Sage’s presence?

After peering around one more time, the woman dug into her apron pocket and removed something. In the darkness, Sage couldn’t distinguish what it was, but with as furtive as the woman was being, Sage had the sinking feeling that the Firths’ maid was up to no good. What if she was stealing from the family? It would be entirely possible, since they were at the dinner party and wouldn’t be home to witness one of their maids taking valuables.

The woman opened the box on her lap, deposited something inside, then closed it. She tucked the box back into the earth and began to scoop the dirt over it. She worked quickly, and when finished, she stood and stomped on the spot with her boots to pack the earth down. Then she scattered dried leaves and other brush across the dirt to conceal it. Finally, she stowed the trowel in a corner of a nearby raised flower bed before she hastened away.

Sage stared in the direction the woman had disappeared. She couldn’t jump to the worst conclusion and assume the maid was stealing. There was likely some logical explanation for what the woman was doing out in the garden late in the evening when her employers were away. What if she’d merely decided to store her earnings in the corner of the gardens? Or what if she had purchased something in town that she wanted to keep safe?

Yes, Sage needed to return to the house and do the mending. One of Augusta’s hems needed shortening. A button on a blouse had come loose. And a silk stocking had a hole in one of the toes.

Expelling a breath, she backed up several steps. The best thing would be to pretend she’d never seen anything. After all, if she hadn’t been in the backyard taking a break, she wouldn’t have noticed the maid and the questionable activities.

Sage took another step backward, then halted. The problem was, she had seen it all. If she walked away and ignored what she’d just witnessed—a possible theft—then wouldn’t she be guilty too?

Perhaps she ought to at least investigate what was inside the box. From what she’d been able to tell, the maid hadn’t taken the time to lock it, so Sage could easily dig it up and take a peek at the contents. If there was nothing of any consequence, then she could go on her way with a clean conscience.

She stood silently for a few more moments before creeping along the line of shrubs until she reached the back corner and found the gate that Juliet had used when they’d had their meeting. It was unlocked and squeaked only a little as Sage let herself through.

She located the trowel and within minutes uncovered the box. From the feel of the fine wood, she guessed it was a cedar cigar box like the one that sat in Jackson’s chamber. She lifted the lid and squinted to see inside.

There were only a few small items.

She bent closer and touched the largest one. It appeared to be a brooch with a raised cameo and a smooth jeweled edge. The second item was thin and seemed to be a hairpin with a cluster of pearls on one end. The third felt like a perfume button bracelet, similar to one Augusta wore from time to time.

The redheaded maid had definitely stolen the items. There was no other plausible explanation for the stash of jewels. The woman hadn’t earned them or bought them. Sage didn’t have to even see them clearly to know they were likely valuable heirlooms, except perhaps the perfume button bracelet.

Should she attempt to confront the maid and demand that she return them to the Firths? Even if Sage did that, what would stop the maid from stealing again and hiding more jewels in another place that Sage wouldn’t know about?

Maybe she ought to interrupt the party, take the jewels directly to the Firths and let them know how she’d discovered the valuables. They could then confront the redheaded maid and bring about retribution.

Or perhaps she ought to wait until the party was over and then call on the Firths at their house privately in the morning before she left to visit Willow. After all of the planning for the gathering tonight, Augusta deserved to have everything be perfect without news of a theft to dampen the festivities.

Besides, there was no rush. The Firths’ maid likely wouldn’t return to the spot of her buried treasure tonight. If she did, Sage would make it appear as though no one had been there.

Quickly, she scooped up the three pieces of jewelry and stuffed them into her apron pocket. She put several small rocks inside the cigar box. Then she replaced the container where she’d found it, burying and concealing it just the way the maid had. She even put the trowel back in the corner of the flower bed.

When she was certain everything looked the way she’d found it, she returned to her coffee and Danish on the stone where she’d left them and then made her way back to the house. Her heart was pounding hard and her hands shaking. No matter the trouble she might be bringing upon herself, she had done the right thing. She was sure of it.