The coach stopped in front of her plastered house. Lindley walked her to the front door and waited until she had unlocked it. “I’ll pick you up at ten,” he told her.
“Thank you so much,” Jane said huskily, kissing his cheek. He smiled and left, and she closed the door behind him.
“Mum, where have you been!”
Jane jumped, stunned, to find a joyous Molly behind her. “Is Nicole here?”
“Nicole is upstairs, asleep,” the Earl of Drag-more said, from the doorway of the parlor.
Jane went white.
“Where have you been?” His tone was casual.
Jane stood very still. Her heart was racing wildly. “Mum?” Molly questioned. “Are you all right?”
Jane sagged against the door. He hadn’t taken Nicole to Dragmore. He hadn’t stolen her away. He had gone to get her—and had brought her back here to Gloucester Street. Slowly, her eyes filling with tears of fatigue and relief, Jane slid down the wall to sit on the floor.
“Mum!” Molly cried, kneeling. “What is it, are you ill?”
Her exhaustion was so great, she could not move. She closed her eyes, her head against the door, and managed to shake her head negatively. She felt Molly’s hand on her forehead, seeking a fever.
He hadn’t tried to abduct Nicole.
She felt the earl’s arms as he lifted her. Jane tensed, opened her eyes, and tried to protest. His face was white, his body big, solid, hard, and warm. All thoughts of protest died. Jane let her lids fall shut and leaned her cheek against his chest, her chin touching the bare flesh exposed by his open shirt. She smiled.
He hadn’t tried to steal her daughter from her.
The earl stood outside Jane’s bedroom door, the waiting endless. What was wrong? Was she ill? And why the hell did he give a damn! He reminded himself of her deceit, but still, he remained glued outside her door.
Molly appeared, and the earl strained to see past her into the bedroom. Jane was curled up on the bed, fast asleep, her profile toward him. Platinum hair spilled from the bed to the floor. She looked like an angel and his entire body tightened at the sight of her. Molly shut the door in his face.
“How is she? What’s wrong? I want you to go and fetch a doctor,” Nick said.
Molly smiled. “She’s just tired is all. She went all the way to Brighton and back, my lord.”
“What!”
Molly nodded. “Didn’t sleep a wink, she said. She’s fine, just worn right out.”
“Why in hell did she go to Brighton when I told her I’d get Nicole?” the earl asked, turning away. Wisely Molly didn’t answer.
The earl ran a hand through his hair. He felt some of the tension draining from him. He’d expected to confront Jane today with his decision. Now it would have to wait. He tried, for the hundredth time, to imagine her reaction when he told her. Anger, tears, stubborn opposition? Inanely, he pictured her face lighting up with joy.
He grew grim. Why was he indulging in foolish fantasies? Jane clearly hated him—and he bore her no fondness. She was a liar and a cheat, and he would never forget it. She had tried to keep him from his daughter, from his flesh and blood. She was his enemy, and he would remember this well.
She was also the mother of his child.
He refused to feel the thrill.
He paced to the nursery and looked in. His daughter was sleeping peacefully, but the earl did not smile. No, Jane would not be happy when he gave her his decision. He had not a single doubt that she would fight him tooth and nail when he told her they were getting married.
And it was just too bad.
32
Jane was not surprised when she awoke the next day and found the Earl of Dragmore in her house. Spotting his gloves and riding crop left carelessly on the table in the foyer, Jane’s heart leapt. “Molly!”
The maid came running from the kitchen. “Good mornin’, mum. Feelin’ better?”
