Page 14 of The Courtesan’s Protector (About An Earl #4)

CHAPTER 13

R ipley couldn’t see what the note Jane had been handed said, but he knew it wasn’t positive by the way she wobbled on her feet. He caught her elbow, steadying her before he opened the carriage door.

“Come, Janie,” he said softly as he helped her into the vehicle. She slumped against the carriage wall, the note crumpled in her hand. He looked up at the drive with a frown. “Just take us somewhere close and stop. I’ll give you further direction after.”

The man inclined his head and Ripley joined Jane in the carriage. She was trembling, but not crying. Somehow he wished she were. That she could release some of those fears and heartbreaks that lined every part of her face.

He reached out and cupped her hand, smoothing his fingers over hers before he slipped the note from her hand and read it. He glanced up. “So she’s eloped with some young man. Jane, this could be the best scenario.”

She shook her head. “You’re trying to appease me. To calm me, but how can I be calm? My sister has run off with God knows who. The kind of man who would do something so?—”

“Potentially romantic,” Ripley interrupted gently.

Jane rolled her eyes as if the concept didn’t exist for her. “Ugh.”

He had set the box Miss Knightly had given to them onto the seat beside him when he joined her and now he motioned to her. “Why don’t we look through this? There may be more information that could help us find her.”

Jane nodded and he handed it over. She balanced the small item on her lap and tugged it open. They looked inside together. There were a few more letters and a ring. She drew it out with a shake of her head.

“I bought this for her years ago,” she whispered. “She truly despises me.”

“She’s of an age to lash out,” he said. “When we find her, you’ll repair the relationship. You’ll atone for your mistakes and eventually she will, too.”

“You are so certain she could love me again?” Jane asked.

He nodded. “Because you’re impossible not to love.”

Her expression softened, even as her gaze darted from his. He was revealing too much. He didn’t care in that moment. In the end, it would all come out anyway. There was no way he ended this battle without another scar. The first one had been worth it, he could only hope this one would be too.

“What are the letters?” he asked as she slipped her sister’s ring onto her pinky finger.

She drew them out, looking them over, unfolding them to read. “Seems to mostly be letters from friends over the years. Dates are around holidays when she remained at the school.” He could see her regrets on her face when she added, “I should have explained better why she couldn’t be with me or our mother during those times. Christ, I was a fool.”

“You did the best you could,” he said.

She lifted her gaze. “But it wasn’t what she needed. It hurt her.”

“And you’ll accept that responsibility.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she whispered, bending her head.

He flipped over the next letter in the pile and stopped as he unfolded it. An iciness settled over him as he scanned the words. Then it was replaced by anger. He lifted his gaze to Jane, still staring at her hands.

“Jane,” he said gently. He was about to hurt her, he hated that. “Jane, this letter is from your mother.”

Just as he expected, the reaction was swift and powerful. She lunged forward to the edge of the carriage seat and snatched the letter from his hands. “What?” She almost tore the cheap pages as she read them once, twice. Then she looked up. “She lied. My mother lied to me that she hadn’t been in contact with Nora.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “I couldn’t see that, I’m sorry.”

“She’s expert at manipulation, it isn’t your fault. But I should have known.” She squeezed her eyes shut briefly and then read some of the letter to him in a shaky tone, “ If this Hugo wants you, you should do all you can to secure him, Nora. Grandsons of titled men don’t fall out of trees for women like us. You could help me and if you do that I’ll be more willing to meet with you. ”

Ripley lifted a hand to his mouth as nausea rolled through him. Jane’s cheeks had gone pale and the two of them stared at each other as the ramifications of her mother’s words sat heavy in the air.

“How could she encourage my sister in this way, manipulate her with affection? And how could she lie to me about her? Lie about being in contact, lie about knowing anything,” Jane whispered. “She’s a monster, entirely self-concerned.”

“She is,” Ripley agreed. “And that is why you’re nothing like her, Jane.” He slipped the letter from her hands. “Whatever she said to you for all those years, it’s just as much a manipulation and a lie as whatever she told Nora.” He glanced over the letter. “We have a name now. Hugo isn’t a particularly common first name, I don’t think. And we know he’s the grandson of a someone of rank.”

“Which gets me exactly nowhere. That viscount’s wife was an exception, not a rule. I was a courtesan for mostly middle-class people, Ripley. I don’t know titled types.”

“But Esme and Delacourt do,” he said.

Her lips tightened and her eyes slid shut. “I was hoping not to drag them into my mess.”

He caught her hands and she lifted those beautiful blue eyes to his. Eyes that were filled with so much pain now that it crushed him down to his soul to see it. And to know that there wasn’t much he could do to help anymore except support her. Hold her up if she needed it.

“People who love you want to help, Jane.” She dropped her gaze to her lap again, but she nodded and that was enough for now. He continued, “We’ll go back to London. Discuss this with them, try to determine our next steps. Together, Jane.”

She looked up at him and then she slowly traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. She let out a low, shaky sigh. “I won’t turn down the help. I couldn’t now. I already owe you far more than I could ever repay. By the time this is done I fear you’ll regret it and me.”

He wanted to argue that with her. To patch together all these places that turned out to be broken beneath her hard facade. But this wasn’t the time. So instead he shifted over to her side of the carriage, tucked her into his side, and simply held her.

* * *

T he inn on the way to London that they stopped at far into the night wasn’t as fancy as the others where they’d stayed during their travels. But it had food and beds, which was all Jane needed.

Of course, she wasn’t using either as she sat before the fire, an untouched plate at her side, staring into the flames. All she could think about was Nora and all her fears for what was happening to her.

All she could think about was her failings and the failings of their mother and the world at large.

There was a light knock on the door and Jane started before she called out, “Come in.”

It was Ripley, of course. He entered the chamber and shut the door. His gaze flitted to the plate still untouched by her side. “You haven’t eaten.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

“Janie, starving yourself will only make you less able to concentrate,” he insisted. “You must be sharp for what will come next.”

She gave him a look. He was saying whatever he felt would force her to eat. And it was working. She pulled the plate closer and speared one of the roasted potatoes. As she chewed, she shook her head. “You are far too good at knowing what I need to hear.”

He took a seat across from hers and gave her a weak smile. “I’m good at knowing what you need. And you’re too clever not to recognize I’m right.”

For a while she ate and he only sat with her in silence. There was something comforting about that. His calm made her calmer, somehow. His presence kept her warm in the chill of her fears.

At last, though, she set aside her plate half-eaten and settled back in her chair with a long sigh. It was only then that he spoke again, “Tell me.”

She pinched her lips together. “Haven’t I dumped out my troubles enough? God, I have swept into your life and turned it upside down. In the end, you’ll despise me.”

“Not possible.” His voice was low and rough. He sat on the edge of his chair, draping his elbows over his knees. His focus on her was so intent that it felt like she was being speared into place. “ Tell me .”

Her breath came shorter and harsher at that order. Her life had been spent hiding her feelings. They’d never been safe with her mother, she’d feared hurting her sister. In her life as a lightskirt and mistress, she’d been nothing but a doll to play with for the lovers who met her. They didn’t want her emotions, just her body. Even with Esme, who she considered herself closest to, she kept much of herself secret. Why hurt her?

But with Ripley? He made it impossible to hide. It was as if he had keys to her heart, to her soul, and he could open her up any time he liked. That was the danger of love, wasn’t it? That was why she’d avoided the attraction that had always sparked between them. She feared this . Being not just perceived, but seen. Understood. A person who could do that held a great deal of power.

And yet abuse of power wasn’t what terrified her. It was opening doors that she knew might not ever fully close again.

“I’m…” She searched herself, trying to define everything boiling inside of her. “I’m…angry.”

He nodded but didn’t interrupt.

“I’m angry at my mother for failing her daughters. I’m angry at myself for not seeing that I was making things worse with my sister.” Now that she had started, that anger burned in her chest, making itself bigger. “I’m angry at Nora.”

She bit back the rest because it didn’t seem right to be angry with someone she had harmed. But Ripley wouldn’t let her pull that punch. “Go on.” he said evenly.

“I-I’m angry at Nora for running away from safety like a petulant child. How could she bolt from security? She had choices, I worked hard so she would have choices! I didn’t want her to end up with no choices like…like me.”

Her eyes stung, but she blinked away the tears that threatened. Now that the anger was flowing, she realized there had been a dam of it, pressure increasing for years.

“I hate that I’m helpless.” She got up now and paced the room, back and forth, hands shaking at her sides. “I have built my entire life around not being helpless. Oh, it all makes me so angry! I want to…I want to…”

“Hit something,” Ripley filled in softly.

Jane stopped pacing and stared at him. While she was a raging tempest, he was calm. There was no judgment in his suggestion, but there was a great deal of understanding. Of course there would be. He’d come from a background so similar to her own. He understood what it was like to grasp for even a whisper of control in a swirling sea of chaos.

“Yes,” she admitted.

He pushed to his feet and began to unbutton his jacket. “Well, that I can help with.”

* * *

W hat terrified Ripley about Jane’s current state was that she didn’t argue with him. She didn’t question. After he’d suggested he could help her hit something, she had quietly done everything he’d asked. He was so accustomed to her taking a more active role in anything she did. He was so used to her asking questions.

To see her almost meek…no, that wasn’t the right word for it. Desperate was more like it. She was so desperate to make this situation change that she would do anything he asked.

And he feared he couldn’t save her. In the end, he might be just as helpless as she claimed to be.

He shook off those thoughts and focused instead on what they were about to do. He had stripped to only his trousers. She had removed her dress and slippers. Was it distracting to look at her in her short chemise, her pink stockings tied with velvet ribbon against her pale thighs?

Certainly. Was he going to do anything about it? Absolutely not. She needed a different kind of outlet at present.

“Normally I’d spend a little time explaining the basics of fighting,” he said. “But you spent so much time at the club in Esme’s corner that I think that might be sporting with your intelligence. So perhaps it would be better for you to show me what you recall.”

She immediately shifted into a fighter’s stance, her right leg slightly back, her hands fisted and up to block her face. He smiled.

“I’m impressed,” he said. “Not that I ever doubted you. May I do a few adjustments?”

She arched a brow. “Just twenty-four hours ago, you had your tongue inside of me and now you’re asking permission to touch my hands?”

He stepped up closer and looked down at her as he covered her fist with his palm and lifted it slightly. “I’m not the kind of man who takes without asking. Ever.”

She’d been teasing him with her question, he knew, but now she stared up at him, her blue eyes softer. “Yes, that is very true. You are…remarkable Ripley. Cam.”

He shivered at that little shift to the name that was only hers to whisper. She could have asked him for anything and he would have moved the world to give it to her. Perhaps he still would, before this was all finished. Whatever pain would follow when she pushed him away would be worth the little piece of heaven he was sharing with her now.

“You can’t distract me with compliments,” he said with a smile.

“I think I could,” she teased back. “I think I could find ten different ways to distract you.”

He shook his head. She was playing and he liked it. But he also saw it for what it was. He’d gotten too close, he’d seen her painful emotions too clearly. She wanted to build a wall. But he wouldn’t let her.

Using all the control he had developed over years in the ring, he stepped back, put himself into a defensive position and raised his hands, palms flat, so she’d have something to hit.

“Tell me again what you’re angry about,” he said. “One punch for everything you say.”

For a moment she seemed uncertain, but then she whispered, “I’m angry about my sister.”

She threw a punch, weak but fully centered on his palm. He nodded. “Why?”

“Miss Knightly should have taken better care of her.” She punched again, this time harder. “And Nora shouldn’t have run.” She punched again. “I hate that I’m afraid for her. I hate that I can’t help her.” She punched, this time a right left combination.

He nodded. “Very nice. Seems you learned a little from cornering.”

“I did,” she said. “I thought I might need it in the game.”

“Go on,” he encouraged. “What else?”

She swung again, her voice getting a little louder. “My mother,” she said. “Her lies.”

The punch was much harder now. It actually stung his palm. “Keep going.”

“Losing Esme.” She punched. “I miss her. I hate that I can’t just be happy for her. I hate that she doesn’t miss me.”

Ripley frowned. He knew that wasn’t true. Esme always talked about Jane when he saw her. But he understood Jane’s feelings about being left behind. This wasn’t about questioning or denying her those raw emotions. It was about allowing her to get them out so they wouldn’t fester and infect.

“I hate the shop.” She swung and it was wilder, as was her voice. “I hate it. It’s boring and I don’t belong there.”

His brow wrinkled. He’d suspected as much the times he had come to see her there. Esme and Delacourt had meant well by offering Jane the chance at a different life, but Jane was only stifled by the repetitive monotony of such a place. She was a wildflower, but she’d been pushed into a hothouse.

“What else? Don’t stop,” he encouraged.

“I’m angry at myself.” It was the hardest hit yet. “I’m ungrateful. I’m a bad sister. I’m an unappreciative friend. I’m a whore and everyone who sees me recognizes it, which is why I’ll never succeed at the shop.” Every cruel, untrue sentence was punctuated by a harder hit.

“More.”

“I’m angry at you.”

They both froze. Her eyes were wide, sparkling with unshed tears. His heart was pounding and his throat felt thick. “Punch,” he said. “Do it.”

She swung, but this time it was weak when it struck his palm. Her breath was short and harsh.

“Why me?” he asked, keeping his tone gentle, not putting his own reaction into the question that meant everything in the world to him.

“Because…” Her hands dropped and her voice caught. “Because I can’t. I-I can’t , Ripley. And being near you makes me wish I was someone else.”

He shut his eyes. He wanted to tell her everything in his heart in that moment. He wanted to tell her that he would never love the someone else she wanted to be as much as he loved her. That he would burn the world down for her smile, that he would bleed to save her from everyone who hurt her, even herself.

He wanted to throw himself on the fire of her and let himself burn. But this moment was about her feelings, not his. So he didn’t do any of that. Instead he stepped closer, took the hands she’d dropped and lifted them up. He kissed each one gently.

“Jane Kendall, I’m glad you’re you. Now, is there anything else you need to rage at?”

She laughed, but there was no pleasure to it. “I could rage at the world, but…not tonight. Doing that helped, just saying it helped.”

“Sometimes you need to relieve some of the pressure.” He motioned to the bed. “Are you ready?”

“After everything you could still…still want me?”

He started. “Of course I want you, Jane. There’s nothing that could ever make me stop wanting you. But that wasn’t what I had in mind. You’re exhausted. And I think rest might be best for you. Especially since we’ll ride hard to London tomorrow and go straight to Esme and Delacourt to see what they can tell us about this Hugo person.”

She nodded and he could see the exhaustion line her face. She’d been trying to hide it from him. Old habit, he supposed, but God, how he wished she didn’t feel she had to mask her true self even for a moment.

“Will you…will you stay with me?” she asked. “If you don’t want to, I understand.”

He caught her by the waist and drew her to him. She was soft in his arms, her bare skin warm against his. He held her close and reveled in the feel of her. “All I want in the world is to stay with you, Jane. Tonight. Tomorrow. Until you tire of me.”

She buried her head against his chest with a shaky sigh and didn’t resist when he moved her to the bed. She got into place and watched him as he blew out candles around the room. When he joined her, she tucked herself against him. He held her close, smoothing her hair until she drifted off to sleep.

And in the dark, in the quiet, he wondered if he would be able to truly help her once they reached London. And how long it would be before she tried to push him away because he’d seen too much of her soul.