Page 7 of The Courtesan’s Protector (About An Earl #4)

CHAPTER 6

T he woman before him was drunk. That was obvious by the slur in her harsh words. But if the way Jane shrank a little at his side was any indication, the cruelty to her mother’s expression wasn’t something new. Jane’s hand gripped even tighter on his bicep and he reached over to cover it, but she didn’t look up at him.

“Mama,” she said softly.

“Well, come in.” her mother said, turning her back on them dismissively. “There’d be no way to keep you out, I’m sure.”

They entered the ramshackle home and followed the woman’s weaving steps through a shabby hall and into a parlor. It was filthy and packed with things: trinkets and broken furniture, a discarded glove draped across the back of a chair, dirty slippers perched dangerously close to the fire.

“Mama, may I present Mr. Campbell Ripley,” Jane said, her voice trembling a little.

Her mother pivoted back and looked him up and down. “I know that name,” she hissed, eyes narrowing. “Ripley…Ripley…”

Ripley stepped forward. “Perhaps from my days as a fighter, Mrs. Kendall.”

“Yes, the boxer,” she barked out. “And I’m not Kendall. That’s her . My dearly departed husband’s name was Winchester.”

He inclined his head. “My apologies, Mrs. Winchester.”

But she was already glaring at Jane again. “Well, at least you’ve got good taste in your lovers. Does he support you well? Enough that you could spare more money at last?”

Jane’s jaw twitched and her cheeks actually flared with color. “Mama, that’s enough,” she said softly, calmly.

Ripley knew that tone. The one a person used when trying to calm an often-riled beast. He’d heard it from himself many a time when he didn’t want to fight a drunken man who wished to prove himself by taking a swing at a former champion.

To have to use it for one’s own parent? His heart ached for Jane.

“Why don’t you sit?” Jane continued. “I could get you tea. Does Roberts still work for you?”

Her mother flopped into a chair, grabbed for a half-empty drink beside her and snorted. “Roberts left years ago. A woman from the village brings food a couple times a month. She always pesters me to pay her to tidy up, but what can I do when you give so little? Are you offering more?”

Jane’s lips thinned. “I’ll see if I can find…find help for you, Mama.” She drew in a shaky breath and for the first time she looked at Ripley. He saw her pain. All that deep pain she was so careful to hide. The display of it felt like a knife to the gut. He held her stare a moment and then gently nodded, encouraging her.

“Mama, I came to talk to you about Nora. She’s missing.”

Ripley forced himself to look at Mrs. Winchester, to read her just in case Jane was too wrapped up in her own reactions to see little tells that might help their cause. But to his surprise, her face was entirely blank.

“Who?” she asked.

Jane’s mouth dropped open. “Nora, Mama.” Still no recognition dawned. Jane’s voice lifted, anger and hysteria barely contained “ Honora . Your youngest daughter.”

“Oh, Nora .” There was the recognition, but still no emotion to go with it. She glanced at Ripley. “Did Jane tell you about her? She stole her, you know. So be careful. If she ever provides you with a bastard, she’ll be certain to take that one, too. Probably use him to bleed you dry.”

Ripley winced at her cruelty. Not only toward Jane, but at her utter disregard for her missing daughter. She was more interested in hurting her eldest to give a damn about her youngest. Mrs. Winchester drew in a breath as if to continue her screed, but Ripley stood.

“Madam, that is enough ,” he said, keeping his tone soft but firm. That was for Jane’s sake, not hers.

He glanced down at Jane, wishing he could pour his strength into her. Wishing he could carry her off and make all this disappear. Now that he understood it, he wanted to save her from all of it.

“ Where is Honora ?” Jane asked, carefully emphasizing each word that came out through clenched teeth.

Mrs. Winchester finished her drink before she said, “I don’t know.”

“Please, this is important. More important than any hatred you’ve developed toward me over the years,” Jane said. “Did she come here? Did she contact you?”

Her mother smirked. “I thought you forbade it.”

Jane’s eyes came shut and her tone was sharper. “Please!”

There was a moment’s pause and Mrs. Winchester rose, crossed to the sideboard and grabbed for a bottle there. She poured more amber liquid into her glass. “I haven’t seen or heard from her. But you’re overreacting, I’m sure. She’s what? Twenty now?”

“Eighteen,” Jane said softly. “Only just.”

“Then she can do as she pleases. She’ll show up.”

Ripley’s stomach turned. This appalling lack of care for either of her daughters made Jane’s reasons for denying her access to Nora very clear. But he also believed that this woman hadn’t seen or heard from her youngest. He didn’t think she’d be able to keep herself from crowing to Jane if she had.

“What about money, Jane?” her mother pressed.

Jane rose a little unsteadily and smoothed her skirts. “I’ll arrange it, Mama. And I’ll have someone come and…” She trailed off as she looked around the desperate room. “I’ll have someone help you clean this up, as well.”

“Good,” Mrs. Winchester said, and then motioned for the door even as she downed the entire glass she’d just poured for herself in one gulp. “Is there anything else or will you leave me in peace?”

Jane’s nostrils flared. “Nothing else. But if you hear from Nora, please won’t you contact me?”

Mrs. Winchester shrugged and poured herself another drink. Ripley could see Jane’s eyes filling with tears, see her blinking them back desperately. He would not allow this wretched woman the gift of breaking her, so he took her hand and gently guided her from the room. The carriage hadn’t moved, thankfully, so he waved to the driver, indicating he put out his cigar and get back into position. After he handed Jane up into the carriage, he pivoted to face her mother.

“Oy,” he snapped, reverting back to less polite manners. “What kind of mother treats their girl like that? More to the point, what kind of monster doesn’t care about their missing child?”

Mrs. Winchester fought to focus on his face and gripped the edge of the door a little to keep herself upright. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

He motioned his head toward Jane. “I know what you put her through. And what she is despite you. If you hear from Nora and don’t contact her, I’ll find out.”

The other woman’s nostrils flared. “A white knight, eh?” She snorted a bitter laugh. “Women like her, women like us …we burn white knights to the ground. You’re already lost, so you can’t do nothing to me.”

With that she pivoted and flounced back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Ripley had faced off in the ring with men bigger and stronger than him. He’d fought men who cheated, swung to kill, but it was this woman and her slings and arrows that slammed into Jane who made his hands shake. He smoothed them against his sides before he said a few words to the driver and got into the carriage.

Jane was bunched into the corner, looking out the opposite window. She didn’t look at him when he closed the door behind himself and they blessedly rode away from the hell that was her mother’s home. One thing he was certain of, though, was that they couldn’t ride away from the consequences this day would leave.

* * *

R ipley hadn’t spoken since they left her mother’s home over an hour before. Jane had felt him watching her, occasionally he touched her hand, but as for words? He clearly had none.

But why would he? She had dragged him into the tawdry drama of her broken mother’s home, strewn out all her horrible history for him to see. How could he say anything? How could he not see her differently as a result? It was probably for the best.

The carriage began to slow and she finally allowed herself to stop looking out the window and at him. It was only early evening, though she supposed he might be hungry. Not that she could eat. Her stomach turned just thinking about it.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” he said as he pulled the curtain back so she could see the fine inn where they had come.

She shook her head. “Stay here? What do you mean?”

He reached across to take her hand, his thumb smoothing along the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. “It’s a long ride back still, the dark will make it dangerous. I don’t think you’re in any state to continue traveling, Janie. Rest will help. Food will help.”

She stared at him, feeling the full weight of the kindness and care in his eyes. “I—oh.”

“No arguments?” he teased, a little smile tilting the corners of his lips. “That’s shocking.”

She bent her head. “As if I could win any battle over you.”

“You could win every battle,” he said, then exited the carriage and offered a hand back for her.

She took it and stepped down on the crushed gravel of the drive. It was a lovely place, with a large gabled main house, a pretty stable and fresh, green grounds.

“If you’d like to stretch your legs, I’ll fetch you after I’ve gotten our rooms arranged.”

She nodded and felt his gaze on her as she walked down a well-tended path toward the garden behind the inn. The fading sunlight filtered through the trees, dancing off the green of the leaves and the rainbow beauty of the flowers. The images did bring her some measure of peace, but certainly not enough. All she could think about was the interaction with her mother. And worse, that she was no closer to finding her sister.

She shivered even though the air wasn’t cold and sat down on a bench with a thump. There was a fountain in the middle of the garden and she focused on the never-ending flow of the water, the gurgling sounds of it falling.

How long she sat there, she didn’t know. It must have been a while, though, for she jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jerked her head up and found Ripley waiting there. “Should I join you?”

She nodded. “You were so kind to leave me with my thoughts on the drive here, but I know I owe you a conversation. An…an apology for what happened at my mother’s house.”

He took a place next to her on the bench and stretched his muscular arm out on the back behind her. He hardly touched her, but she found herself wanting to lean into him, pull his arms around herself and forget everything.

That was foolish. Cruel to them both. He’d been kind, but there were limits and she knew she must be at the end of his now. Even if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be like her mother and take advantage. Hurt him like she knew she could.

“You don’t owe me any apology, Jane,” he said. “You’re no more responsible for your mother’s behavior than you are for a stranger’s. I’m sorry that you had to endure her callous disregard today and any day before this one.”

She sighed. “She was never warm or loving. She lived a very hard life.”

“Not an excuse,” he said softly.

“Perhaps not, but an explanation,” she said. “But she’s definitely worse now. The drinking is part of that, but I think it goes deeper.”

He nodded. “The state of the house was shocking.”

“Well, hopefully whatever funds and assistance I arrange will help,” she said, and shut her eyes. “Lord, the money.”

“I know you put aside a healthy sum from your previous work. Does the shop do well enough to support assisting her?”

The image of the empty shop popped into her mind. The empty shop she despised, no matter how much she wanted to step into a more acceptable life. “It isn’t your burden,” she said.

He arched a brow. “It’s not enough.”

“Ripley,” she whispered.

“Let me help,” he said. “Let me arrange the funds and the assistance on your behalf.”

She rose and paced away, feeling his gaze bore into her back. “That’s outrageous. Kind, but out of the question. My mother thought you were my protector, but you aren’t. You do not have any reason to waste money or any more time than you already have on?—”

He got up and followed her, catching her arm and pivoting her back to face him. “You think I don’t have a reason, Jane?”

She stared up into his face, rare emotion flashing in his dark eyes. Beautiful eyes. Soulful, warming, perfect eyes that could hold her steady and make her forget everything else but him.

She couldn’t do that.

“You’ve done so much already.” She extracted herself from his hands with a great deal of difficulty.

“I’m happy to do it,” he insisted. “And considering we haven’t found out anything about your sister expect that she isn’t with your mother, we have a great deal more to do.”

She blinked at him. “N-no. You were far too kind in your offer to bring me here and stand at my side, but you have a life back in London. A club and friends and?—”

“It’s not a question, Jane. I’m helping you and that’s final.” He folded his arms and his jacket tightened across his broad chest. “We can speak about it more later. Plot our next steps. For now, why don’t you come upstairs? I’ll help you get settled and you can rest.”

Her instinct was to fight him. To push him away for both their sakes, but he wasn’t wrong that she was tired. Physically, of course, it had been a long day and there had been no rest for her the prior night. But it was more a bone-deep exhaustion, something that went beyond a lack of sleep and burrowed into the weight of the world she’d borne for…well, she couldn’t recall when she hadn’t felt it on her shoulders, bowing her back.

“Very well,” she sighed, and followed him into the inn. It was as pleasant inside as it was outside, clean and warm with smiling proprietors and guests chatting and eating.

Ripley took them past all that and up a wide staircase and down a hallway to a room. When she entered, she caught her breath. This had to be the largest chamber of the establishment, likely meant for very important guests as they passed through. The casement windows were cleaned to a shine so the gardens she’d been enjoying were easy to take in from the window seat.

A fire burned brightly in the large stone fireplace and a large bed was pressed against the wall across from it. On the other side of the room was a table and a screen where she assumed a bath was hiding.

“You spent too much. I’ll never be able to repay you,” she said.

He tilted his head. “I’m not asking for repayment. I want to take care of you, Jane. Whether that is taking you to visit your mother, continuing to search for your sister or getting you a decent room so that you may collapse as you look like you’re ready to do after the last two days.” He folded his arms again. “Now, tell me what you need.”

She blinked. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had asked her that. As a lightskirt, her life had been about anticipating and providing what others needed. She’d taken care of Esme when she was too innocent to know how to keep herself out of trouble. She’d protected her sister even though Nora despised her for it. Seeing her mother today had put her to mind of the long nights she’d spent as a child, trying to help the woman who’d raised her.

And this man asked what she needed.

“I don’t know,” she said. It was true. She’d pushed aside what she needed for so long it was hard to find the feeling of it, let alone the words.

“I can leave you,” he said softly. “Let you rest a bit.”

The idea of him walking away was instantly painful and she jerked toward him a step. “No!” she gasped out, and then shook her head. “It’s not fair to ask, but would you just…just hold me for a moment?”

As she said it, she knew that was exactly what she needed. To feel the safety of his embrace, the steadiness of his presence. The world had an axis, after all, even when it spun out of control. She needed to find it.

His breath was shaky as he closed the remainder of the distance between them and folded his arms around her. She tilted her head to rest against the warm curve of his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him. Woodsy pine and leather, something masculine and soothing all at once. Suddenly she wanted to coat herself with that. Have it close by so she could pretend he was always with her.

They stood in the quiet like that for a few moments. He smoothed his hands against her hair, she clung to him. At first it was only the comfort she’d requested. But as she relaxed, the inevitable response of her body to his became very clear.

The heat of him wasn’t just comforting. It was arousing. When his hands brushed her scalp, the sensitive skin tingled. When he shifted a little, she reveled in the strength of him. The thick solidness that she had often dreamed about since the first time she’d seen him, stripped half-naked in a ring, blood dripping down his forehead, eyes focused on his duty.

He let out a shuddering sigh and then began to step away, but she held to him. She lifted her face toward his and he looked at her. Now he wasn’t breathing at all. She wasn’t either.

“Please,” she whispered.

His eyes fluttered shut. If nothing else, she knew he wanted her. That had always hung between them. Now she was testing his resolve. She was selfish enough she wanted to break it.

“Jane,” he murmured, almost a plea.

“I want to forget for a while,” she said, and stroked her fingers along the length of his spine. “With you.”