Page 44 of The Wordsworth Key (Regency Secrets #3)

Chapter Twenty-Five

T he sunlight slanted through the east-facing window in the library.

Looking up from his case notes, Jacob took in his guests, each busy with their early morning occupations.

Through the open door across the passage, Alex and Ruby were sharing a pot of tea at the dining room table while they gossiped about London.

Now that Ruby had dismissed Alex as a potential protector, they looked to be on the path to becoming friends, or at least, acquaintances with teasing rights.

‘We need to speak to Moss again, work out a way to divine Knotte’s intentions, and potentially his next target,’ Jacob told Dora.

He was acutely conscious of her moving about the library behind him, investigating his collection.

After last night, they had agreed that they didn’t want the issue of forgery to lie between them.

She was going to tell him if his collection could be given the all-clear and then they could move on to the next stage.

He hoped that stage would be a commitment between them, possibly even the ‘m’ word, but he was taking it carefully, like a skater venturing out onto ice, not sure if it would bear his weight.

‘I’d like to know how Mr Wright is faring this morning,’ said Dora distractedly.

‘Indeed.’ Jacob wasn’t sanguine. He’d seen patients in comatose states before.

There was little a doctor could do to help them apart from keeping them comfortable.

If he and Dora had been quicker, could they have prevented the assault?

The problem was that the poetic hints from Wordsworth’s autobiography only made sense after an attack and did not narrow down who might be next. Unless…

‘Do you think he will go after Wordsworth?’ Dora was now rummaging in something behind him. He turned to see what she was up to. ‘Dora?’

‘Well now, that isn’t good.’ Dora frowned at the contents of a drawer in his cabinet of curiosities.

Jacob’s heart sank and he marked the place in his notebook. ‘Trouble?’

‘How much did you pay for this?’ She held up a page from an early draft of Absalom and Achitophel .

He put his volume aside and crossed the room to stand at her shoulder. ‘The Dryden?’

She hummed noncommittally. Was that a guilty blush on her cheek?

‘Not much. I wasn’t sure about its provenance, but the dealer threw it in with a Pope that I paid over the odds for.

’ He pulled out the drawer below and showed the letter he’d purchased for five guineas.

For all his calm words, his heart was running the final furlong at the Derby.

If the Pope was bad, then all the rest might well be.

He’d stake his reputation on that being genuine.

She studied it carefully and gave a sigh of relief. ‘That one is good. However, the Dryden– you aren’t very attached to it, are you?’

‘Is anyone ever attached to anything by Dryden?’ A sick sense of foreboding gathered in his chest that had nothing to do with the skills of the poet.

‘True, but you see, the problem is that it isn’t by him exactly.’

He picked up the offending sample. ‘But the paper– the penmanship– it is very like his.’

She smiled and couldn’t hide her pride, which lit the touchpaper to his temper. ‘It is, isn’t it?’

‘Yours?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

Though he’d told himself he wouldn’t mind, promised her that truth was better than not knowing, he couldn’t help the anger that rose up. ‘Meaning?’

‘I think I… er… created it in Leeds during Lent two years ago– there’s not much acting allowed in Holy Week.’

He’d known this was a possibility; he had merely thought he knew too much to be caught out.

He’d set her loose in the library expecting his judgement to be vindicated.

His pride was hurt even more than his collection; he’d hated forgery– and all forgers– with a passion, until he met Dora. Now he hated himself.

Taking the fake Dryden from her, he scrunched it up.

‘No!’ Dora made to snatch it from him.

He held it above her head.

She pulled a wry face. ‘It’s valuable– and took a lot of time to make.’

Saying nothing, he marched to the kitchen and threw it into the stove. It blazed and blackened. His fury eased a touch now the embarrassing evidence of his gullibility was destroyed. One less forgery in the world to ensnare a collector.

Dora followed him, an unconvincing penitent. ‘Do you want to take it out of my wages?’

‘I want to take it out of your hide. You know what I feel about forgery.’ He took some deep breaths and counted to ten. They were never going to see eye to eye on this, were they?

‘I wouldn’t mind being spanked if it makes you feel better.’ Her smile was sauce and daring.

Was there anyone else like this woman? It was hard to cling onto temper when his body was leaping in with other suggestions. ‘You’re only saying that to make me forget I’m angry.’

‘Is it working?’

‘I’m afraid to say it is. Where is my professional dignity?’ He backed her to the kitchen dresser and lifted her to the ledge. This emotion had to go somewhere.

‘Hopefully vanished in a cloud of unprofessional lust?’ Her hand brushed downwards from his waistband.

‘Damn you, Dora.’ He groaned at the truth of this as his fingers quested for that place between her thighs that would make them both happy.

‘Jacob!’ she squawked, apparently surprised her well-mannered lover was not feeling so polite this morning. He would happily discompose her in the most enjoyable sort of way in revenge for the humiliation she had dealt him. But they had guests.

‘Don’t come into the kitchen!’ he growled at the door to the dining room which stood ajar.

‘What? Why?’ asked Ruby from the other room.

‘Understood,’ said Alex. ‘Ruby, sit down.’ The door slammed shut.

‘Table!’ Dora breathed.

‘Why?’ Jacob undid his breeches and slid inside her with a strong thrust.

‘I don’t… want to… break any… storage jars– ahs!’

‘Damn the storage jars.’ He drove them both over the edge so that the pot on the end rocked, fell and smashed on the flagstones.

* * *

Angry sex had been the tonic he required to exorcise his mood.

Manners returning, Jacob felt it incumbent on him to be the one to sweep up the carraway seeds as he had been the one to break the jar.

The little buggers had gone everywhere. Dora returned from upstairs where she had gone to wash and, of course, laughed at him.

‘Next time you should pay attention to what I say.’

‘I find myself encouraged that you consider there will be a next time for lovemaking in a kitchen.’ He tipped the seeds into the pig bucket and the shards of pottery into the one for ashes.

‘Do you want me to say I’m sorry?’

He sighed. ‘What would be the point?’

‘Well, I can at least truthfully say I am sorry that the forgery caused you pain. I’ve always assumed those that buy them continue in blissful ignorance, no harm done.’

There came a tap on the door. It saved him from making an answer to that.

‘Is it safe to come in?’ called Alex.

‘Yes!’ replied Dora. ‘I hope we didn’t shock you?’

Alex put his head around the door and grinned. ‘It takes more than that to shock a former army officer. And I made sure you were not spied upon.’

‘I found it heartening even if Alex did spoil my fun!’ called Ruby from behind him. ‘Dora was always such a prude on the theatre circuit, I was beginning to think she had decided to dedicate herself to Diana and become a Vestal Virgin.’

‘How do you know about that?’ asked Alex, evidently intrigued by this evidence of a classical education.

‘ Pericles ,’ said Ruby simply. ‘Alex, the note.’

Recalled to his business, Alex pulled a letter from his pocket. ‘This came while you were otherwise engaged.’ He waggled his eyebrows– unnecessarily, in Jacob’s estimation. ‘From your brother and it’s marked urgent.’

Jacob brushed his hands off on his thighs, took the note and cracked the seal. The contents made him fume. ‘Blast that man!’

‘What’s he done now?’ asked Dora.

He hesitated whether to show her the letter as it might hurt her feelings; but he decided that if he was angry at her for a forgery made long ago before she had met him, she would have grounds for complaint if he faked their situation with the viscount.

He handed over the letter. She read it quickly and gave a startled bark of laughter.

‘Well, that puts me in my place, doesn’t it?’ she said lightly.

‘Look, you two, unsatisfied curiosity isn’t good for someone in my condition!’ Ruby marched in to take the message. ‘I’ve already been kept out of things once this morning.’

Dora passed it back to Jacob, depriving Ruby of the chance to seize it. ‘What condition is that? That of the incurably curious?’

Ruby huffed. ‘It can’t be good for me to worry that something has come between you two lovebirds. My baby will be born bald and wrinkled with worry.’

‘All babies are born that way. We come into the world like worried old men, have a few years of wrinkle-free bloom then go back to how we began again,’ said Jacob.

‘Not that you’d ever look like an old man,’ said Alex gallantly to both ladies.

‘They know what I mean.’

Ruby folded her arms. ‘The letter?’

‘We’d better tell her, or she’ll resort to ridiculous stratagems to find out,’ said Dora.

‘My brother has summoned me to a meeting at the house where Lord Furness and Lady Alice are staying. He says it is all very well for me to indulge myself with my fancy piece?—’

‘Which would be me,’ said Dora.

‘—but that I should assume my responsibilities to the Sandys family and socialise with our equals.’

‘And not wallow in low company like mine.’

‘Apparently, we have matters to discuss.’

Ruby cocked her head to one side. ‘You’d better go if you brother demands it.’

‘It is because he demands it that I don’t want to go.’

Dora came to his side. ‘It would be a good opportunity to find out more about Mr Langhorne’s background. His father works for Lord Furness, doesn’t he?’