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  He abruptly dropped her hands, and they walked the few steps to Mr. Howard’s office. Jane clasped her reticule as Matthew pressed the bell.

  Moments later, the door swung open and the young clerk, who hadn’t spoken a word the two times Jane had been to the office, greeted them with a sullen expression. “Good morning, may I help you?”

  Matthew cleared his throat. “We are here to see Mr. Howard.”

  The clerk flicked his gaze between them. “Is he expecting you?”

  Impatient, Jane stepped forward and forced a smile she hoped would buoy some enthusiasm in the young man. “He isn’t, but we have a letter he is waiting for. We would like just two minutes of his time.”

  He glanced between them again, before emitting a heavy sigh and pulling the door farther open. “Come in. I’ll check that Mr. Howard is available.”

  Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Jane stepped over the threshold and Matthew followed. They were left in the hallway while the clerk climbed the dark stairs to the upper floor office. Jane shook her head. “That boy needs a candle lit inside him.”

  Matthew smiled. “Either that, or a fire up his backside.”

  Jane sniggered just as the stairs creaked with the clerk’s footsteps.

  The young man sighed. “If you’d like to follow me.”

  Exchanging a smile, she and Matthew climbed the stairs and were shown, albeit reluctantly, into Mr. Howard’s office.

  The Guardian immediately came around his desk, his hand outstretched toward Matthew, his smile wide. “Squire Cleaves, a pleasure to see you again.” He nodded at Jane. “Miss Danes.”

  Jane nodded and sat in one of the two chairs in front of the man’s desk. Barely able to stop her feet from tapping against the wooden floor, she waited as Matthew and Mr. Howard exchanged words and eventually sat.

  Mr. Howard leaned his elbows on his desk. “Will Miss Ashby not be joining us?”

  Jane shook her head. “I’m afraid not. She has been otherwise detained, but I assure you she is as keen to get to work as I am.”

  “I see.” He turned to Matthew. “And you are happy to sponsor both Miss Ashby and Miss Danes, sir?”

  “I am.”

  Matthew withdrew the signed authority from his inside pocket and passed it to Mr. Howard. Seconds ticked by as Mr. Howard perused the letter, refolded it, then laid it carefully on the desk as though it might detonate at any moment. Jane tightened her fingers in her lap.

  Mr. Howard exhaled. “Well, that is very good.” He looked at Jane. “I have spoken at length with Mrs. Cage, and she has various stipulations should you still want to work at her house after hearing them.”

  Jane nodded. “Of course.”

  “First, she wanted me to make it clear that she has run the house for many years and will remain in charge. Second, she knows the children and what is best for them . . . although she concedes to be open to any input from you and Miss Ashby, if requested in a reasonable manner. Finally, she would like some time for the children to get used to the idea of having two new women coming to the house every day.” He looked at Matthew. “Not to mention, your involvement, should it become necessary, Squire.”

  Matthew dipped his head. “Understood.”

  “What say you, Miss Danes? Are Mrs. Cage’s conditions acceptable to you?”

  Jane pulled back her shoulders. “They are. More than acceptable.”

  Excitement strained to escape inside her. She had expected much more stringent rules from Mrs. Cage—had half-prepared for out-and-out refusal. As Mr. Howard and Matthew continued to talk, Jane stared toward the window, her mind racing. There had been a connection between her and Mrs. Cage, no matter how weak. Yet, through the mention of Laura and the possibility of future money, Mrs. Cage had clearly grown as hopeful as Jane had eager.

  “Miss Danes?”

  Jane blinked. “Yes?”

  Mr. Howard frowned. “I was just explaining to the squire it would be wise for you, the squire, and Miss Ashby to pay Mrs. Cage a visit of introduction tomorrow. I understand Mr. Cleaves needs to return to matters in Biddestone thereafter. Upon agreement with Mrs. Cage, you and Miss Ashby are free to familiarize yourselves with the house and, of course, the children over the next couple of weeks.”

  “And then?” Jane tensed as she anticipated a less-agreeable condition on the horizon.

  “And then, I would like you to spend the Christmastime as you will and begin work on a proper basis in the New Year.”

  Jane stared. Why had she not considered Christmas in her plans? Monica would undoubtedly expect her at Marksville. She glanced at Matthew. He would most likely be there for Christmas Day luncheon too . . . at least, he would be if he did not reunite with Elizabeth once he’d spoken with her. Christmas felt too soon to return home. She didn’t feel ready, or strong enough not to slip back into what was familiar. Her family had always been her weakness, and now she would undoubtedly be home again in weeks.

  Matthew’s gaze swept over her face, concern in his dark blue eyes. “Jane?”

  She snapped her gaze to Mr. Howard, her stomach knotting with dread. Her smile was so strained, her cheeks ached. “That is perfect. Thank you.”

  “Very good. I just have some paperwork for your signature, Squire, and then you and Miss Danes are free to enjoy the rest of the day.”

  Jane stared at her clasped hands. A change was in the air . . . but what that change would be, she was no longer certain.

  Chapter 18

  Jane carried toast and butter to the small kitchen table as Jeannie brought the teapot. The young girl’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “So, we are to go to the house tomorrow? We will meet the children?”

  “Indeed we will.” Jane smiled as she sat. “It has worked out wonderfully. All we need to do now is prove ourselves worthy to Mrs. Cage. Clearly she is willing to accept our help, so we will be on our best behavior and hope things go smoothly.”

  “I’m really quite nervous.” Jeannie sat and filled their cups through a metal tea strainer to catch the leaves. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

  “She won’t.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Mrs. Cage is a formidable woman, Jeannie.” Jane laughed. “I don’t think there is a single person on the planet that she would take to immediately. Knowing myself, you, and Matthew are there to put our noses where they aren’t wanted isn’t going to make our transition without obstacle. The question is, are you as prepared as I am to do anything we can to get into Mrs. Cage’s good books?”

  Jeannie grinned. “I am.”

  “Good, then together she will not break us.”

  They laughed just as a loud knock sounded at the front door.

  Jane frowned. “Who could that be?”

  “Let me go.” Jeannie stood and smoothed down the front of her dress. “It could be someone looking for a different address.”

  Jane strained her ears to the door as Jeannie disappeared along the hallway. There was a brief muffled conversation before Jeannie asked whomever it was to step inside.

  Jane stood and walked into the hallway. A young boy stood dressed in patched trousers, an overcoat, worn at the elbows, and a tweed cap pulled low over his brow.

  “Jeannie? Is everything all right?”

  “It’s a message for me, miss. From Thomas.”

  “Thomas?” Jane looked at the boy again. “George, I didn’t recognize you! I’m so sorry. How are you?”

  He grinned and removed his cap. “I’m good, thank you, Miss Danes. I bet I look a sight riding that horse and gig, hurrying this message to Jeannie.”

  Jane looked at Jeannie. “Is everything all right at the house?”

  “It’s Mama.” Jeannie’s wide eyes glazed with worry. “Thomas says she has taken ill, and if you can spare me, I am to go back to Marksville with George first thing in the morning.”

  “But of course. What is wrong with Mrs. Ashby? Nothing too serious, I hope.”

  “Thomas doesn’t say, but from the tone
of his letter, I can only assume it’s serious or else he wouldn’t have written to me or asked that I return so urgently.” Jeannie’s voice cracked and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Poor Mama.”

  “Come.” Jane clasped Jeannie’s elbow. “Let us pack your case for the morning. You can still enjoy a night at the Assembly Rooms this evening and leave first thing tomorrow.”

  “But I couldn’t possibly go, not when I know Mama is unwell.”

  Jane frowned. “Jeannie, please. There is nothing to be done this evening, after all. If Thomas wanted you to travel through the night, he would’ve said so. He clearly does not want that.” She turned to George. “Go into the kitchen, George. There’s hot tea and toast. Tonight, you can sleep upstairs in the small bedroom at the back of the house, then take Jeannie back to Marksville at first light.”

  George nodded. “Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.”

  As the young boy made for the kitchen, Jane steered Jeannie toward the stairs. “Come, let’s pack and then get ready for the ball. I promise you . . .” She smiled gently, brushing the tears from Jeannie’s cheeks. “It will prove an enjoyable distraction. We will return early so you can get some rest before tomorrow’s journey. How does that sound?”

  Jeannie nodded, a small smile curving her lips. “I have never been to a ball before.”

  “Which is precisely why I insist we go.”

  Urging Jeannie ahead of her up the stairs, a horrible sense of foreboding bore down on Jane. Thomas would not have called Jeannie home unless something was very wrong with their mother. Jane blinked back her tears. Thomas’s family was as much a part of her life as her own . . . probably more so, considering Mrs. Ashby’s kindness to Jane and Monica over the years.

  As they walked into Jeannie’s bedroom, Jane sent up a silent prayer for Mrs. Ashby’s good health and Jeannie and George’s safe journey home. Just when she and Jeannie were on the precipice of a new life, tragedy had struck, pulling one of the two of them back to Biddestone. Jane couldn’t shake the feeling her time would come all too soon as well.

  The Assembly Rooms were lit to full regalia as Jane stepped through the anteroom, Jeannie’s arm intertwined with hers. Having left Matthew the afternoon before, an evening’s entertainment would provide the perfect distraction from his looming departure—and Jeannie’s ailing mother.

  Music from the orchestra filtered from the open ballroom doors as the attendants took their capes. Following the line of beautifully gowned ladies and smartly dressed men, she and Jeannie entered the expansive, chandeliered ballroom. Jane lifted her gaze to the magnificent ceiling, divided into compartments and decorated with garland, palms, and laurel branches.

  “Oh my,” Jeannie whispered.

  Jane smiled and faced her friend. “Is everything as you imagined?”

  “It’s . . . it’s . . .” Jeannie shook her head. “It’s like a fairy tale.”

  Jane smiled. “It never becomes any less enthralling, trust me. I’m so glad you agreed to accompany me this evening. After our success with the Board, I feel we are more than entitled to a night of dancing.”

  “But who shall I dance with?” Jeannie’s gaze shadowed with worry. “You’re so pretty and used to this sort of thing. I shall feel such a fool when I know only the most basic of steps.”

  “Nonsense. You’re a fine dancer. We will not dance until they play something we are used to from the village dances.”

  “But surely they won’t.” Jeannie worried her bottom lip. “Everything looks so sophisticated.”

  “It’s the clothes and the room, nothing more. The dances are just the same as they are at home. Come, we will not dance until you are comfortable . . . anyway, we have to be asked first.” Jane took her hand from Jeannie’s arm and deftly plucked two flutes of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. She offered one to Jeannie. “Shall we?”

  Jeannie giggled and took the glass. “We shall.”

  Jane led them in a walk about the huge ballroom. Color shone from the clothes, shoes, jewels, and buckles. Everything and everyone looked stunning. Jane scanned the faces, recognizing some and nodding in greeting, but the majority were unknown to her, having not been to Bath for the last two Seasons due to her mother’s failing health and eventual passing.

  Jeannie’s excited exclamations mixed with the chatter around them. Jane smiled as one gentleman after another looked admiringly at her friend, almost physically clamoring to catch Jeannie’s eye. She would soon come to realize her honey-blond hair and bright green eyes were exotic compared with Jane’s dark brown hair and hazel eyes.

  Jane sighed. She prayed Jeannie found a good match. A man who was hers to love fully and freely. Not for her to fall in love with a man destined to be married to someone else, who had the responsibility of so many lives to consider above all else.

  “I thought he’d returned to the village.”

  Jane blinked. “Who?”

  “The squire.”

  “He will, after we have seen Mrs. Cage in the morning. Of course, I know you won’t be with us now, but with Matthew to accompany me, all will be well.”

  “Then he must have had the same need of distraction as us this evening.”

  Jane frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Jeannie nodded to Jane’s left and she turned.

  Her heart promptly leapt into her throat and lodged there. Matthew stood in a semicircle of gentlemen she did not know. He stood at least a half head above them, thus leaving her view of him cruelly uninterrupted. His soft, dark hair fell in perfect waves across his brow, its length caressing the collar of his snow-white shirt. His fashionably short side whiskers were smartly brushed and his jaw clean-shaven. As he flitted his dark eyes from one gentleman to the next, Jane recognized his expression to be one of complete disinterest, or maybe frustration. Either way, he looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  “Will you not speak to him?”

  Jeannie’s whispered question broke through Jane’s paralysis, and her hand turned clammy about her glass. She pulled her gaze away from Matthew and quickly returned her half-empty glass of champagne to a tray carried by yet another passing waiter.

  “Let us return to the anteroom.” She snapped open her fan and waved it in front of her heated face. “I suddenly feel unwell.”

  Jeannie raised an eyebrow. “Miss Jane?”

  “I need a little time away from him, that’s all.”

  “But why?”

  “Because being around him . . . being near him . . . shifts my focus from our work with the Board, that’s why.”

  Jeannie frowned. “But it is the squire’s signature that opened the door for us. I don’t understand.”

  “Fine. I’m in love with the man. Satisfied? Now come, we need make haste before he sees us.”

  “How romantic.” Jeannie grinned. “And here you are, fleeing the scene for fear he might take you in his arms and bring you undone with a kiss as passionate as any . . .”

  Gripping Jeannie’s arm, Jane practically dragged her friend toward the grand double doors. She had always known Jeannie to have a dreamy, romantic streak, but heavens above, for her to be so ignorant to love’s often painful path was too much to bear.

  The room was filled with at least three hundred men and women, making it impossible for Jane to ease their way from the room with any amount of decorum. They were forced to a halt as people came in and out of the ballroom entryway, taking their time to greet and exclaim over acquaintances and seemingly long-lost friends.

  Panic threatened and Jane’s throat grew dry. The depth of her nerves was inexplicable. Why had the sight of Matthew caused such a flurry of alarm in her? He had declared his wish for them to be together. It was she who’d insisted he return to the village to deal with his marriage after their visit with Mrs. Cage tomorrow. Their imminent separation was forced by her hand, was it not?

  The hypocrisy in her unease was shaming, but she could not get a grip on her sudden bout of discomfort. If she looked into his eyes
again . . . if he touched her . . .

  She glanced over her shoulder in Matthew’s direction. He laughed with a gentleman she did not know. Jane smiled to see him look so happy and carefree. Her heart softened. She would do anything to move across the room and press her lips to his. Everything he had done for her during her time in Bath had only served to escalate her desire for him.

  Which was exactly why she had to enforce space between them. If she had any chance of maintaining her inner promise of not conducting an intimate relationship with Matthew whilst he was still married to Elizabeth, she could not afford to be in close proximity with him. Each moment she spent with him, she wanted more and more for him to kiss and touch her. Their admissions to wanting each other, to doing all they could to help the other with their personal duties and aspirations, had somehow made looking at him all the harder.

  She glanced over her shoulder again. He had disappeared. Releasing her held breath, Jane attempted another few steps closer to the open doors.

  “Jane, slow down.” Jeannie gasped behind her. “If Squire Cleaves sees us pushing and shoving in such a way, he will immediately wonder what on earth ails you. Don’t you think you should be behaving a little more aloof like the ladies do in novels?”

  Jane spun around. “In novels? Do you think my life belongs in a novel? For goodness’ sake, Jeannie.”

  Jane turned as her panic gave way to acute irritation, despite knowing her unsettled state had everything to do with her weaknesses and nothing to do with Jeannie. She attempted to shoulder her way through a number of stationary bodies before their path was blocked once again.

  “Jane?”

  Jane halted so abruptly, Jeannie stumbled into her.

  Matthew’s voice seemed to boom across the space between them, clear for all to hear . . . or maybe it was just that his voice was entirely and instantly recognizable to her.

  Inhaling, Jane dragged forth every ounce of dignity she could muster and turned. She smiled. “Matthew. What a surprise.”

  He watched her intently. His blue eyes were devoid of the joy and desire she had held as the most coveted of her memories. The unreadable blankness of expression he had carried for the months following Elizabeth’s departure had returned. Jane’s heart sank. Something was amiss.