“She wasn’t always, sometimes she was more when we were together. But she was dreadful when she realized it was me behind that counter.” Jane sighed. “I wasted your charity, I fear. But I hope you can ultimately sell the place. Make some of it back.”
“If you don’t wish to continue there, then I’d never force you,” Esme said. “But what will you do instead to support yourself? Perhaps support your sister when you find her?”
Now the truth would have to be shared. The pain begun. “I think I’ll…leave London,” Jane said softly. “Get a small place with the little I have left. I could do some kind of servant’s work. Fake the references and I’m sure I could find that.”
“You think that would be less boring?” Esme asked gently.
Jane looked toward the door. “Probably not. But it would be less dangerous.”
“I don’t think you’re talking about former lovers now. Or standing at a counter waiting for customers.”
“No.”
Esme said nothing in response to that, just let Jane ponder the statement.
At last Jane sighed. “I adore you. I adore him. But I can only hurt you by staying. I already have. It’s what I do.” She held up a hand when Esme took a big breath to retort. “Please don’t argue. I’m so tired of arguing. Just let me go if that’s what I decide to do.”
Esme’s eyes were filled with rare tears as she gripped Jane’s hand. “You saved my life more than once. So did he. I want you both to be happy and I believe with all my heart that you could be together. But I also know that you’ve spent a great deal of time having to do what others wanted. I would never stop you from following the path you thought was right. But I will love you like the sister you are to me whether you hide from me or not. And I won’t be the only one.”
Jane shivered. The fact of that felt so raw, but she was saved from having to respond when Ripley returned to the parlor, Delacourt at his heels. Jane forced some brightness to her face.
“You were quick.”
He shrugged and she hated how all the color was gone from his cheeks. “I didn’t have much to say. Just a simple…well, perhaps not-so-simple, request.”
“I’ve invited you and Jane to supper,” Esme said without releasing Jane’s hand, even though she held it far more gently. “And she has refused to answer.”
Ripley looked at her and then he shook his head slightly. “I appreciate the kindness, Es. I do. But I wouldn’t be good company right now.”
Esme released Jane and moved to Delacourt. He put an arm around her, his faced lined with concern for his wife. For Jane and for Ripley, too. But Esme’s voice was steady as she said, “I understand. Please tell us if you need anything.”
Ripley nodded absently and motioned for the door. The carriage he had let remained a little ways back on the drive. It rolled forward as they made their way out the door and Ripley said something to the driver as Jane hugged Esme. She felt the tremble in her friend.
“Please don’t do anything rash, love,” Esme whispered. “And never run away without telling me.”
“I never would,” Jane promised. She squeezed Delacourt’s hand with true gratitude for all he’d done and continued to do. When she turned, she let the Delacourt footman help her into the rig. She watched as Delacourt shook Ripley’s hand and then Esme lifted up to kiss his cheek. She said something to him, too soft for Jane to hear. His expression softened a fraction.
“Thank you, Es,” he said, and then he followed Jane into the carriage. Soon they rolled through the busy London streets together. She didn’t ask where he was taking her, but it didn’t matter. All she could think about was her sister, all she could think about was how Ripley would cut himself open for her. Her two failures, pressed tightly together now, showing her that she could only cause pain to those she loved.
Eventually they pulled up to the club and he helped her down. He spoke to the driver as she stood before the big, double doors leading into the fine life he had created. At last the man drove away, taking the rig Ripley had probably spent far too much letting for her. All for her. All this loss for her.
She followed him into the club. It was empty save for Brentwood, who was tidying up for the end of the day. When they stepped in, he stopped and looked from Ripley to her and back again.
“Good to have you back,” he said, and then nodded to Jane. “Miss Kendall.”
“Mr. Brentwood,” she said, hating that heat filled her cheeks. Did she actually care what this man thought of her? Of course she did. He was important to Ripley.
“Any trouble?” Ripley asked, his voice rough even as he crossed to shake Brentwood’s hand.
“None,” Brentwood said. “One or two groused you weren’t here this week, but I matched them with the best at sparring and they started focusing on not getting their heads knocked off instead.”
Ripley flashed a grin she realized she hadn’t seen in at least a day. That carefree, wicked expression she had always been drawn to. Her heart thudded at its return, and it broke with the realization that all her drama had been the reason for its absence.
“Good. Then they’ll be very pleased to have me back once I’m finished with my current issues.” He glanced at Jane and she ducked her head.
“Well, I’m available to run them ragged as long as you need. Are you out again?” Brentwood asked.
“It depends. I’m waiting on a missive.”
