Page 25 of Submitting to the Widow
She was leafing through one of the texts, taking notes and angrily pushing her spectacles back up onto the bridge of her nose.
“Jane,” he said quietly, “how long has this been going on?”
She pointed a slender finger his way. “Stephen, do not involve yourself in my brother’s games.”
“How much money have you handed over to him?”
“Four thousand pounds since Father and the baron died in the accident.”
“Good God. Why?”
“Because he’s convinced I did something to cause the accident, and he’s threatened to go to the magistrate if I don’t give him what he thinks he’s owed.”
Stephen’s legal mind kicked in before he’d thought through his current dilemma. “Did you?”
“Did I kill them?”
“Well, did you?”
She took off her spectacles and laid them atop a wildly untidy stack of papers. Turning up her chin, she gave him a belligerent look. “No matter what I say, you already have an opinion of whether I did what I’m accused of.”
He walked over and knelt at her feet, staring quizzically up into her dark eyes. “Truth?”
“Please—I need to know the truth.” Her voice turned pleading.
“I don’t care what you’ve done. I’m afraid there’s no hope for me.”
“Why?”
“I’m in love with you.”
* * *
Jane feltas though she’d been punched in the chest, and all the air had whooshed out of her lungs.
Falling in love had not been part of their bargain. She didn’t even know if she was capable of falling in love after all the cruel, loveless years she’d been forced into enduring as the wife of Baron Trevellyn.
She grasped the lapel of his jacket and forced him to lean perilously near her face. “We are together only for the return of your pages in exchange for pleasures of my choosing. Are you going to try to romance the remaining pages away from me?”
She released him suddenly, and he rocked back on his heels. “I tell you I love you, and you accuse me of a ruse to retrieve the remaining pages?”
“Ever since you arrived in Combe Down your main objective has been to investigate those horrible men for Captain Goodrum and snatch your journal pages away from me by any means necessary. All you care about is racing back to London to your old life and purging the memories in your journal pages. Then you’ll be able to return to being a proper gentleman who looks down on women of loose morals. But how is your own behavior any different from theirs?”
Stephen stood and lowered his gaze to the floor. “All right, Baroness Trevellyn, I am yours to command. What services do you require from me to earn the remaining pages?”
She gave him a wicked smile. “Come to the waterfall pool tomorrow night, and I’ll show you.”
* * *
Thursday,April 27, 1826
Combe Down Inn
Combe Down, England
Stephen and Murray sat in front of the clothes press back in their rooms in the Combe Down Inn and took stock of the hard worn wardrobe they’d hastily packed for the trip to retrieve the pages from hell.
“Where are you two going this time?” Murray chose a dark woolen jacket and began brushing off the dust of the road.