Her fingers idly brushed the loose strands of her hair that had come undone from her plait. Kingston noted the movement with a renewed focus, his gaze unintentionally following the soft curl of her strawberry blonde locks. She was utterly unaware of how much she affected him. Or perhaps she did know and simply enjoyed it, he thought bitterly. Still, he could not look away. He had a deep attraction to her, one that never truly went away, no matter how much he fought it. That attraction had led him to coming to her aid at Vauxhall and that duel.
Jaclyn finally turned to him, her green eyes narrowing slightly as though she were contemplating his words. “You sure you do not recall?” she asked. She narrowed her gaze on him. “Or are you just failing to remember because you do not wish to impart that information?”
Kingston couldn’t help but notice the shift in her demeanor. He glanced at her again, taking in her pale skin and the delicate curve of her lips, wondering how it was that this woman, this girl who he found to be so vexing, could now stir something in him that he’d rather leave dormant. He did not want her. He wanted to forget everything about her. “You do not trust me?” He lifted a brow. “No,” he replied truthfully, shaking his head. “I do not recall the specifics. He merely mentioned it in passing.” That was not entirely the truth, but he would not disclose everything to Jaclyn. He did not owe that to her.
Jaclyn’s eyes flickered with something akin to disappointment, but it was gone in an instant, masked by her usual indifference. She turned her gaze back toward the water, watching the ripples as they caught the fading light of the sun. Lady Ella, who had been standing off to the side, looked between them, an almost worried expression on her face.
Kingston barely spared the other lady a glance. He only remained aware of her because he had to be careful of the words he spoke to Jaclyn. He did not wish to say anything that might come back to haunt him one day. He was not acquainted with Lady Ella Winslow. The stillness of the moment was thick, uncomfortable. He did wonder why Jaclyn was concerned about Lord Finley’s visit. Was there something between them?
“Is something wrong between you and Charlotte?” Kingston asked, his voice betraying his curiosity. “I had assumed you were still in regular correspondence.”
Jaclyn’s gaze hardened at the question, and she stiffened. “I suppose we’ve both been preoccupied. I have school…” she replied curtly. “And she’s newly married after all. I have wanted to give her space to acclimate to her new station.”
Kingston felt a prick of guilt. He had stepped too far into territory that was none of his business, but the words had slipped out before he could stop them. He offered no apology, though, for he was curious about what was truly going on beneath the surface. What was it about her that made him wonder things he shouldn’t? He should end this conversation and return to Easton Abbey.
Before he could say more, she spoke again, her voice softer than before. “I did not know Lord Finley was coming,” she repeated, her gaze still averted, her mind clearly somewhere else. “I suppose I should pay a call on Charlotte soon.”
“Yes,” Kingston said, his voice a little softer now. “It would be the polite thing to do.”
Jaclyn’s eyes flicked back to him, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Do you always give unsolicited advice, Your Grace?”
Kingston chuckled softly, a rare moment of genuine amusement slipping through. “Only when it’s warranted.”
“Well, I would have to disagree,” she said stiffly. “Because it is most definitely not warranted here.” She glared at him. “If you will excuse us,” she said with a lift of her chin. “I think it is time Ella and I returned to Havenwood. Good day, Your Grace.”
And with that she looped her arm through Lady Ella’s and led her away from the pond. He shook his head in wonder. That had been an interesting conversation. Though he had gotten something out of it. She found out what she had and had not known, and goaded her into paying a call on Charlotte. When she did, he would ensure they had a conversation in private. He had a few things to say to her that he wanted no one to overhear.
Hopefully, after that conversation he would know his next steps. It was perhaps not a wise thing to do, but he was still bitter about that blasted duel. He understood it was not all her fault; however, he could not stop blaming her for her part in it. What he really wanted was to make her brother pay for ever demanding satisfaction to begin with. Especially as he had no real reason to challenge him. If he had not been so bloody impulsive and listened, it never would have happened.
Three
Jaclyn made her way down the path toward Easton Abbey. They had taken the path through the woods and around the pond—a short cut that only those that resided at Havenwood knew about. Her heart beat a little faster, not only from the excitement of the impending visit but also from the knowledge that Mrs. Havenwood’s insistence on a chaperone had turned what should have been a pleasant call into a more complicated affair.
Jaclyn glanced at Miss Spencer, her designated chaperone, as she adjusted her bonnet and gave the surrounding countryside a distracted glance. Miss Spencer was a woman of refined manners and poised demeanor, though there was an undeniable air of discomfort as she looked up at Easton Abbey. With her fair blonde hair and pale blue eyes, Miss Spencer carried an air of unflappable elegance, particularly when it came to matters of deportment and dancing, a role she filled as a teacher at Mrs. Havenwood’s academy. She had a lot of experience in both as the daughter of a diplomat. Miss Spencer had traveled a bit of the world with her father and had strict expectations on how she must behave. These were some of the lessons she imparted to the students at the school.
“Shall we, Miss Spencer?” Jaclyn asked, her voice betraying none of the nerves that had suddenly sprung up in her chest. They were nearing Easton Abbey and would soon arrive at the front entrance.
Miss Spencer gave a quick nod, smoothing the front of her dress. “Of course, Jaclyn. I do believe this will be quite an interesting visit.”
Jaclyn narrowed her gaze on Miss Spencer. What had she meant by that? Was Miss Spencer aware of something that she had not been privy to? Surely not… She frowned and let that drift from her mind. She had other worries, and she could not allow her overactive imagination to get the best of her. As they approached the grand entrance, Jaclyn’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of Charlotte standing at the top of the stone steps, her welcoming smile as warm as ever. Yet, it wasn’t just Charlotte who was waiting for them. Standing slightly to the side, with an air of effortless command, was a man Jaclyn instantly recognized. The Marquess of Finley, Charlotte’s older brother.
His striking presence made Jaclyn pause for a moment. His smile faltered a little when his gaze landed on her. He had once been nothing more than her older brother’s closest friend. Now, as his hazel eyes met hers, Jaclyn found herself unexpectedly flustered. How had she not made the connection sooner? As she glanced between Charlotte and Finley, it was obvious now they were brother and sister.
“Ah, Lady Jaclyn,” Lord Finley said in his smooth, baritone voice. “It’s been a while. How are you?”
Jaclyn quickly masked her anxiety with a polite smile, offering him a curtsy. “Lord Finley. I’m well, thank you for asking. And you?”
“Quite well, thank you,” he replied, though his gaze lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, his attention sharp. Jaclyn noticed that Miss Spencer, standing beside her, seemed suddenly uneasy under the marquess’s gaze, though she said nothing.
“You two are acquainted?” Charlotte frowned and glanced between the two. “I do not understand.”
Lord Finley gave her a wry smile. “It is not something you would necessarily have been aware of,” he replied in a nonchalant tone. “Lady Jaclyn here is the sister of my oldest friend. You might recall him—the Earl of Oakley.”
Jaclyn caught a flicker of something in Lord Finley’s gaze as it returned to Miss Spencer, and for the briefest moment, she wondered if there was more between the two of them. Miss Spencer, for her part, was being her usual composed self, but Jaclyn could see her hands subtly tightening as the marquess spoke. He seemed to have ready explanations for his sister as well. As if there was nothing more she should know or concern herself with. In that regard, the marquess was wrong. With both the Duke of Amberwood and the Marquess of Finley in residence there was sure to be strife. Surely, Lord Easton must be aware of this and should have warned his wife.
“Ah,” Charlotte said, then tilted her head to the side. “I suppose that explains it.” She met Jaclyn’s gaze, and she must have understood what Jaclyn wished without her saying a word. She turned her attention to Jaclyn’s chaperone. “Miss Spencer,” Charlotte began, “I trust you’re familiar with the grounds here, after the house party this past summer? Perhaps you would care to join my brother for a tour while Jaclyn and I have a moment to catch up inside?”
Miss Spencer hesitated, her blue eyes flicking between Charlotte and the marquess. There was an almost imperceptible shift in her posture, as if she were reluctant to accept. “I… suppose it would be agreeable,” she said, but Jaclyn could tell that she wasn’t entirely at ease with the idea. “As long as Jaclyn promises to remain with you inside until I return.”
