“Give me the book,” he said as they stopped before Ambrosia at last.
“I won’t.” She tilted her chin in a haughty lift. “I—I have changed my mind.”
“Coward,” he accused gently. “Jenny, give me the book—or I shall be obliged to takeit myself.”
She skittered back a step. “I won’t!” Surely—surelyhe would not lay hands upon her so publicly. And then, as he took a step toward her, she drew back her shoulders. “Have you no shame, sir?”
“Very little, in fact.” This was rendered in an idle tone, but by the gleam in his eyes she suspected that he wouldrelishthe chance for a public tussle—and that he anticipated coming out the victor. “I gave you ample opportunity to produce it before now. It is only your fault if you chose not to.” Another step, which brought him practically toe-to-toe with her.
“You—you—” The words came out a wheezy rasp, as if they had been forced from her lungs. “I don’t knowwhyI ever thought you were a nice man.”
He gave a low chuckle. “I don’t, either. I’ve never claimed to be.” He held out his right hand expectantly. “The book, Jenny. I’ll have it now.”
With a wordless sound of outrage, she thrust her hand into her pocket, withdrawing the volume even as her cheeks burned in mortification. “Take it, then,” she said, primly. “I won’t meet you tomorrow.”
His hand curled around the book, and he sighed; patient, indulgent—infuriating. “I think we both know you will.”
Chapter Nine
“Beg pardon, ma’am, but you have a caller.”
Jenny lifted her head, holding her place in the book opened over her lap with the tip of her finger. “A caller? At this time of night?” Her heart gave an erratic little beat in her chest; a queerthumpagainst the constraint of her ribcage. Itcouldn’tbe Sebastian—he would not be quite so bold. And he hadn’t a prayer of admittance, besides.
“Yes, ma’am.” Alice, lingering in the doorway, performed an obsequious curtsey. She’d not broken herself yet of the habit, despite the fact that Jenny had told her several times over that such performative displays were quite unnecessary between members of the staff. “It’s—well, it’s Miss Amberley, ma’am.”
Nerissa. The book shut in her hands, thesnapof the cover closing resounding about the room like a gunshot.
“I know you said that Ambrosia was closed to her, ma’am, but she has forced her way inside, and—and I cannot make herleave.” Alice fidgeted uncomfortably. But then she was a rather timid woman, and Jenny could not precisely place the blame upon her for failing to find the courage to stand against Nerissa Amberley. The woman was a shrew, and a murderess besides—or at least an accomplice to one. Even if only Jenny was aware of it.
“I’ll see her, then,” she said. “But do keep her waiting where she is. I should not like her to be made comfortable.” There would be no tea, no biscuits or pastries the like of which might typically be offered to a guest.
“Of course, ma’am.” With another little bob of a curtsey, Alice fled.
Sighing, Jenny placed her book upon a table in the reading room and checked her reflection in the glass of the window. She was neatly put together enough, she supposed—Sundays provided a good deal of leisure time for her, and she’d had nothing more strenuous than a long sleep well into the afternoon, followed by dinner and then some reading. Her hair remained secured within its pins, and her dress had acquired no more wrinkles than it ought to have done.
She took her time; Nerissa deserved to be kept waiting. She was not afraid, precisely, of encountering the woman. In fact she had already done so, several years past—though she doubted whether Nerissa remembered it. Nerissa had come into Jenny’s dress shop, and had hardly cast more than a cursory glance at her—she had deemed a modiste to be too far beneath her to merit notice, and whatever brief acknowledgement she had given of Jenny’s existence had been limited to barking orders and sending the poor shop girls into a tizzy in their efforts to accommodate her ridiculous demands.
Nerissa was, after all, the sister to a duke, and she expected the proper deference to be given her as a result of that exalted position within society.
But now Jenny was something more than a modiste—she was the manager of an exclusive club at which Nerissa very much wished to secure a subscription. Thus far, Jenny had vetoed her inclusion, and Lottie and Harriet both had supported her decision. But for the woman to force her way inside Ambrosia, during their brief closing hours…clearly, Nerissa’s arrogance and entitlement had only grown over the years.
It was a risk she was taking, placing herself within Nerissa’s notice once more—but people saw only what they wished to see, and Jenny had changed considerably from the diffident young duchess she had once been. She was separated from that foolish child by more than a decade; Nerissa would not be looking for her within the face of a confident woman of business.
It did not escape her notice, when she swept into the foyer, that Nerissa seemed to have aged considerably since their last encounter. She had gone a bit soft about the chin and neck, which pulled her lips down into a perpetually-dissatisfied frown. And considering that she had inherited the same thin, gaunt face as her brother, the look was arresting—like a droopy-faced hound.
“Miss Amberley,” Jenny said, in a silky smooth voice. “You must not be aware, but Ambrosia is closed on Sundays. To what do we owe the honor of your visit?”
Nerissa was quite good at a cutting glare—though Jenny had received far too many of those throughout her life for it to carry much weight any longer—and she had even perfected the superior sneer that was endemic to a good number of women of her station. Her chin notched at precisely the right angle as she lifted one brow in an arch expression that Jenny did not doubt had sent servants quailing away in fear.
“You are Madame Laurent?” Nerissa inquired, and Jenny supposed that the imperious tone was meant to make her feel inferior, servile.
“I am.” She did not cower beneath the assessing gaze Nerissa cast upon her. She did not flinch at the haughty lift of Nerissa’s chin. There was nothing in her that would ever be cowed by this woman again.
“Then you will assist me in taking out a subscription,” she said, and the words were meant to be a command. “Quickly, now. I won’t be kept waiting.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Jenny said, with saccharine sweetness. “We vet all of our members, Miss Amberley. I’m sorry to inform you that you were rejected some time ago. Of course, if your situation changes—”
“Mysituation?” Nerissa echoed incredulously. “How dare you be so impertinent with me! I am the sister of aduke.”
