Neither Lindley nor Gordon responded.
With a violent cry, the earl’s arm swept out, and he savagely cleared the table of its contents, sending a vase of roses and all Jane’s toiletries smashing to the floor.
A shocked silence followed.
The earl broke it. “Where is she?”
Lindley didn’t move a muscle, but Gordon grimaced.
“Where is she?” When Gordon didn’t respond, the earl leapt. He threw him against the wall, pinning him there. Gordon cried out. “Tell me, damn it, before I break your neck,” the earl shouted.
Lindley hauled on the earl from behind, trying to drag him off Gordon. “Stop it, Nick, damn it, stop it!”
The earl froze, Lindley’s assault no more bothersome than an attack of gnats, and then he slumped, freeing Gordon. He leaned against the wall, forehead pressed there, shoulders slumped. Gordon skittered away. “I’m sorry,” the earl said heavily. “I’m sorry.”
28
Jane was not able to sleep all night. Her thoughts were filled with him.
She lay awake staring at the ceiling, waiting, listening, for the sound of a carriage or a horse. Her chest was so tight it hurt. She was so stiff she hurt. She was sure he would come after her.
But he didn’t.
Just as he hadn’t come after her two years ago.
At first, panicked in the darkness, she was sure the only reason he could have had in coming to see her after all this time was Nicole.
But how had he found out? No one knew about their daughter, no one except herself and Molly and Gordon, and Jane trusted the other two with all her heart. Yet she did not underestimate the earl, not for a second. He was shrewd. He certainly wasn’t coming to say hello—or take up where they had left off. She refused to acknowledge the bitterness that rose. Only one thing became clear: He could not know. She grew calmer as dawn approached. No, he could not know. But he had been so angry. She had heard it in his voice. Yet she recalled only too well that the earl was an angry man. It took so little to light the fires that burned within him. Such dark fires.
She would not feel compassion.
Today she did not play outside in the yard or sit on the pink swing with her daughter. They stayed inside, just in case he did come. Hiding. Despite the voice of logic, she was afraid.
Holding Nicole after breakfast, Jane debated what to do as her daughter explored the ribbons in Jane’s hair. If she were a true mother, she would quit the Criterion and take Nicole away and just disappear. But Jane didn’t think she could do this, not yet, not unless there was absolutely no other choice. Maybe she should send Nicole and Molly to Brighton for a short vacation, just until things died down. She could confront the earl, demand what he wanted, surmise if he knew about Nicole—yes! This was what she would do.
Leaving Nicole playing in the parlor for a moment, Jane hurried into the kitchen, just next door. “Molly, pack up a few things. I want you to take Nicole to Brighton for a week.”
Molly’s eyes widened, then she squealed with delight, having developed a fondness for travel once she’d discovered it. Jane explained why, and the two women walked out of the kitchen together, making plans.
A man filled the doorway of the parlor, his back to them. He was rigid.
Jane froze, hands clutched to her breast. “Jon! How did you get in!”
He whirled, eyes wide, stunned. “The door was open, wide open.”
Jane hurried past him to her daughter, who was sitting and playing with a silver box she must have somehow knocked down. She knelt, sweeping Nicole into her arms.
“My God,” Lindley said.
Rising, holding her daughter fiercely, Jane said with outward calm, “Molly, please close and lock the front door.”
Molly was red. “I’m sorry, mum. When the milkman come, I must have left it ajar.”
“It’s all right,” Jane said, her gaze bonded with Lindley’s.
Lindley stared at Nicole. Jane kissed her hair, rubbing her cheek there. “I think you should go, Jon,” she managed. She felt it, her world beginning to cave in. She was trembling.
“I had to see you today,” Lindley said stiffly. “I had to see you. I couldn’t sleep all last night, thinking about what happened at the Criterion yesterday. Thinking about how afraid you were to see him. Do you know he broke the door down?”
