Page 21 of To Tempt Lady (Victorian Outcasts #10)

twenty

Marcus begrudgingly had to admit Trevor had been right.

A week had passed since he had moved to Hart House, and the good meals, plenty of rest, and the warm bed had changed his body and mind for the better.

For the first time in years, he felt strong and well rested; his head was clear and sharp, and he didn’t get tired after reading for five minutes.

At first, he’d had trouble reading the building reports and got a headache whenever he tried to focus.

But now he could study and concentrate all day without feeling exhausted.

Jesse had improved as well. No fever or coughing. The only problem was that, despite his improved concentration, Marcus was making slow progress in reading the documents. He had to stop reading often to consult engineering manuals because he didn’t remember a great many things.

The late morning sunlight streamed through the window when Jesse entered Marcus’s bedroom. Emma had provided them with brand-new clothes, and Jesse wore a fine tweed suit, complete with a waistcoat and bow tie.

“How do I look?” he asked, fiddling with his bow tie.

“Elegant.” He straightened Jesse’s jacket. “Are you nervous?”

“No. I mean, it’s the first time I’ve left my bedroom to have breakfast in the sunroom, and I don’t want to do something terrible.”

“You won’t.” He went downstairs with Jesse.

“I’m happy you taught me how to behave at a fine table.”

“You’ll do well. Just enjoy the meal.”

“I’m starving,” Jesse whispered. “But I won’t stuff myself. I promise.”

The sunroom was particularly bright that morning, especially because Emma wore a lemon gown that brightened the room further. She smiled when they entered, but Trevor frowned.

“Good morning.” Marcus bowed his head and glanced at Jesse.

“Good morning.” The boy bowed from the waist, his curls bobbing on his cheeks.

“I’m so happy to see you up and about, Jesse.” Emma gestured at the chairs at the long table. “You must be bored, staying in the bedroom alone.”

“I had a lot of fun,” Jesse said. “I like my bedroom.”

A pristine white tablecloth covered the table. White daisies filled the vases on the windowsills, and the scent of freshly baked scones teased Marcus’s senses. The view brought him back to when he’d had breakfast with his parents in their beautiful townhouse. Mother had loved white daisies.

Jesse walked to the chair as if wearing boots made of lead. He pulled the chair back and grimaced when it screeched against the polished floor.

“Sorry,” he said in a low voice.

“Let the footman do that,” Marcus whispered.

“Do not worry, and choose what you want,” Emma said.

Trevor hid behind an ironed copy of The Times as the footman carried plates of bacon and eggs to the table. Jesse groaned.

Marcus served him a not-too-big portion. “Eat slowly.”

Jesse nodded, his eyes on the bacon.

“The napkin.” He showed him how to properly fix the napkin on his collar.

Jesse copied him but fumbled with the napkin and the long flap of the tablecloth for a moment before getting it right.

“So how’s the reading going?” Trevor asked, lowering the newspaper.

“I’m a bit slow,” Marcus said, pouring tea for himself and Jesse. “But the project seems solid so far.”

Emma buttered her scone. “We want to replace the awful, humid houses in the rookery with proper ones. The project was designed by one of the engineers working for Sir Horace. In fact, the whole venture is managed by his company. Papa chose it.”

Marcus glanced at Jesse trying to cut his bacon into tiny pieces for some reason. “I have to give Sir Horace and his engineers credit for the project. We’ll see if the execution follows the design.” He winced when Jesse elbowed him hard while cutting the bacon.

“Sorry,” Jesse muttered. “I was using the knife.”

“I’m looking forward to knowing your opinion,” Trevor said. “Now that Jesse is fine—”

“We could go somewhere all together,” Emma completed, but he had the feeling Trevor had meant something else.

Trevor continued, “Actually, what I meant to say…”

The loud clatter of Jesse’s fork against his plate rang out. Then a thick slice of bacon flew out of his plate to slap Trevor in the face and smear grease on his cheek and suit.

Everyone seemed to hold their breaths after a collective gasp. Jesse’s mouth hung open as he wielded the knife. The footman remained with a foot forwards and an arm outstretched in the attempt to catch the wayward slice.

Trevor picked up the offending piece of bacon between his thumb and forefinger and deposited it on his plate, an expression of absolute disgust on his face.

“Well—” He didn’t finish the sentence before Jesse scraped his chair backwards and darted out of the room.

Or tried to. Somehow, the hem of the tablecloth had got caught in his collar when he’d spread the napkin on his chest and the yank, caused by his sudden escape, thrust the cups, pot, plates, and trays of food forwards.

The cups toppled over. The teapot rattled, and the basket of bread, the plates of eggs, bacon, and the kippers tumbled to the floor.

Trevor, Emma, Marcus, and the footman shot up at the same time, spreading their arms to save the breakfast. In the midst of the chaos, Marcus’s hand ended up on top of Emma’s, and he sucked in a breath.

Aside from a few rare occasions when he’d touched her hand by chance or when he’d helped her out of the boat in the Tay River, he hadn’t held her hand like that in a long time, with his palm fully on the back of her hand and his fingers lacing with hers.

His heart thumped faster, reminding him how little some things had changed in the past years. Her hand was so soft, like a warm petal made of silk and velvet, and he wished he could kiss her knuckles just once.

Her lips parted as she fluttered her long eyelashes at him.

“I’m sorry.” Jesse’s high-pitched voice broke the spell.

Sobbing, he waved his hands until he disentangled himself from the tablecloth before running away.

“What a disaster,” the footman said under his breath.

He hurried to pick up the bread and straighten the tablecloth, but the tea had spilt everywhere, soaking what hadn’t been thrown to the floor.

Marcus removed his hand from Emma’s, collecting himself.

“What a bloody mess!” Trevor wrung his handkerchief soaked with tea.

“Trevor!” Emma said.

“I didn’t say anything to the boy.” Trevor wiped his face with a napkin.

“Your angry face scared him.” Emma folded her arms over her chest.

“For heaven’s sake. A little bit of trust would be appreciated. I wasn’t going to scold him.” He turned to the footman. “Neil, tell Adam I need a fresh suit.”

“My lord.” The footman left.

“You should talk to Jesse,” Emma said.

Trevor gestured at the mess of food and stained cloths. “He made this disaster. What am I supposed to tell him?”

“That you aren’t angry with him for having thrown bacon at your face by accident.”

Trevor removed another piece of bacon from his collar. “Oh, I have many things to say to Jesse.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Marcus picked up a few plates from the floor. “And I apologise on his behalf. He was very nervous this morning. He usually isn’t so agitated.”

“Nothing happened.” She smiled encouragingly.

“Nothing?” Trevor slammed the napkin on the table. “Look at me. Look at the entire room.”

“Stop being so harsh.”

“I’m simply saying that something did happen.”

“Listen—”

“No! I don’t want to listen!” Trevor closed his fists.

“I’d better go,” Marcus said.

Emma flashed him a genuine smile. “Please don’t mind us. This is normal for us.”

Marcus left the sun room quietly. The voices of the two arguing siblings followed him into the hallway.

He found Jesse in his bed hugging the pillow for dear life. “Jesse.”

“I ruined everything. Are they going to kick us out?” His eyes were red and filled with unshed tears. “I don’t want to return to that room in Seven Dials. It’s cold, and I don’t want cramps from hunger again.”

“We aren’t going anywhere.” He sat next to Jesse. “It was an accident, and no one wants to kick us out, and even if they did, we won’t return to that room. I promise.”

“I wanted to cut the bacon into small pieces to eat it slowly and look more polite.” Jesse wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “But it was slippery, and I lost control. And then the cloth was stuck to me. And I ran…”

“It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. The earl wanted to kill me.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Jesse hugged the pillow harder. “I won’t eat with them ever again. I’ll stay here and be quiet.”

“You’re exaggerating. I’m sure Lady Emma will want to see you again.”

“But not the earl.” Jesse shook his head, his eyes unblinking.

Marcus squeezed his shoulder. “Trust me. You won’t starve again. That period is over.”

One way or another.