“Maybe later,” Jane said, watching Molly leave with the flowers. She smiled. It had been impulse, asking Molly to come with her that night so long ago when she had run away, but the maid had instantly agreed. She had never been farther than Lessing, and the thought of going to London had been immeasurably exciting to her.
Jane hurried upstairs, kicking off her high-heeled slippers and quietly opening a bedroom door. One small nightlight was on, illuminating the room. There was a small bed, the headboard painted pink and blue and white. Blue and yellow clowns graced the wallpaper, holding pink ribbons. A few dolls lay scattered about, and a new, white-and-black wooden rocking horse grinned at Jane from the center of the room. Jane moved to the bed, its sides up, to look at her daughter.
She smiled, because Nicole did that to her, made her unbelievably warm and happy—and unbelievably protective.
No one knew about her.
No one was going to take her away from Jane.
Jane knew, without a doubt, that ifheknew, he would claim her and take her away. Just the thought made her sick with despair—and furious with maternal anger. If he had come after her when she had run away, then the child would have been theirs together. But he had forfeited all rights. Nicole was hers. Hers. And he was never going to take her away from her.Not ever.
Molly understood and Robert understood. They were the only ones who knew her secret. It was a terrible thing to live with, like a dragon breathing fire, to know that one day her secret might be found out and that one day he might come and take Nicole away from her.
Jane refused to feel any sympathy for the Earl of Dragmore. She refused to consider his right to know. She refused to consider his feelings—and the kind of father he would be. He had Chad. Nicole was hers.
She heard it then, Molly racing up the steps. She was coming too fast, something was wrong. Jane straightened, one last glance at her year-old daughter, wanting to touch the dark curls but resisting. She quietly left the room, closing the door and leaning upon it. Molly appeared, breathless, wild-eyed. Jane’s body tensed in anticipation. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“Oh, good Lord!” Molly cried, white-faced. “There was a knock on the door and I looked out the window, but it’s so dark, so when I saw a gentleman on the stoop I thought it was Robert come back! Or I’d never have opened the door!”
Jane’s heart stopped.
“But it ain’t! Mum! He’s here!”
25
Jane thought her heart had truly stopped. Somehow, she recovered. “Send him away!” she hissed. “Tell him I’m not home! Now!” And already she was planning her escape.
For escape she must.
Sanity fled. She only knew that he was here. Was he coming for Nicole? Did he know about his daughter’s existence? God, if so, he would chase them to the ends of the earth! She would grab the sleeping baby and they would flee now, out the back, as they were, into the night.
Molly whirled to go, but froze as heavy footsteps on the stairs sounded. She shot a desperate glance at Jane. Too late—he was coming! Jane knew she could not let him come up. She must buy time. She rushed forward, shoving past Molly, and started down the dark stairwell—to come face to face with him.
“Lindley!”
The Earl of Raversford stood on a lower step, and they were eye to eye. Hers wide, stunned; his wide, warm. Relief surged, then fell abruptly away. “Are you alone?” she demanded.
“Yes. Jane, I—”
Jane sagged against the wall. Her heart was slamming, and sweat had gathered beneath her breasts. “How did you find me?”
Still on the stairwell, they stared. “I’m sorry,” Lindley said. “I’ve upset you.”
“No, it’s all right.” Then she had a horrifying thought. If Lindley knew her whereabouts, did he? Jane pulled herself together with great effort. She must be calm, collected. “Forgive me, Jon. Where are my manners? It was just such a shock. Come, let’s go downstairs.”
“Forgive me,” Lindley said, turning and backtracking. “But I had to come, and I guessed you might not want to see me. I apologize for my forwardness.”
Downstairs, in the light of the foyer, away from Nicole’s room, Jane could breathe easier. She sighed. “You’re forgiven.” She meant it and smiled, although her heart was still racing from the scare she’d had. And so were her thoughts. Was the earl close by? Did he too know where she lived? Had he sent Lindley? What would Lindley do if he found out about Nicole? “Come into the parlor.”
“Thank you,” Lindley said.
Jane paused as he went in, then grabbed Molly and whispered fiercely, “Stay with her. Don’t let her cry!”
Molly nodded and raced upstairs.
Jane composed herself before entering. Lindley studied her openly, eagerly, with appreciation. Jane let him, waiting. “Well?”
“You’re not a schoolgirl anymore,” Lindley said softly.
