And this aspect of her own character was a revelation.
She felt as though Isaiah needed her.
And oh, it was seductive, indeed. To be needed by such a fine man.
Did Jacob need her?
If he did, would he have been able to leave?
How ironic that she had never needed him more than at this moment.
What cruel mutation of spirit made it possible to love—andwant—two men?
She wanted their arms around her, their lips on her lips, their skin pressed against her skin—she could imagine it too vividly. The kind of physical longing she felt for Jacob—heated, consuming—was different from desperate and fierce way she now longed for Isaiah. But they were equally compelling.
Was this aberrant? Was she the only woman in the world who had ever felt this way?
Who could she possibly ask? Maria would certainly be sympathetic and fascinated, but no help at all. And she doubted there were enough smelling salts in the world to revive her mother if she ever brought the matter up.
And she didn’t know Isaiah’s intentions. She could not think him a cad, and yet surely a man of his stature and fine looks must be spoiled for choice when it came to eligible young women? She couldn’t ask another soul currently in Pennyroyal Green about him without arousing suspicion. The most logical person to ask, George, was away at Lincoln’s Inn, though he would be home in time for the assembly. She hadn’t the nerve to ask Isaiah outright.
If only she couldseeJacob. Perhaps longing for Isaiah would then drift away like her breath in the night air.
But was she really that fickle? She didn’t think so.
And Isaiah was beginning to seem like the only real thing in the world.
She felt like she was perilously perched on the pointiest peak of the world’s highest mountain. The view was heavenly, infinite, exhilarating.
It was also very lonely.
And one wrong move could send her tumbling endlessly down to her destruction.
Jacob madestraight for his family’s London townhouse when he disembarked the ship. His parents were presently visiting his sister Pauline in Hampshire, or so he was told by the footman who’d answered the door with the gratifying, drop-jawed delight reserved for prodigal sons. Pauline was expecting another baby.
Jacob contemplated this happy news and daydreamed about his own future family of little girls that looked like Isolde and little boys that looked like him as he rifled through his father’s clothing press for clean shirts and trousers and stockings, all of which proved a little too loose on him. Then he hailed a hack and drove to his favorite barber near White’s for a haircut and the kind of ruthlessly close shave he didn’t dare attempt on unpredictable high seas, lest he sever his jugular vein.
He watched his dark, waving hair hit the floor in tufts. Eventually the barber thrust a mirror before him. He inspected the tanned, hard, handsome stranger who looked back at him, a little disoriented, not displeased. Then Jacob took this newly revealed version of himself off to White’s gentleman’s club.
Like Postlethwaite’s and Smithfield Curtis in Pennyroyal Green, White’s was a veritable gossip tributary, and would likely be the most efficient way to discover what he’d missed politically and socially over the last eight months.
The first person he saw was his old friend Wyatt Neeley from Cambridge, who was enjoying a plate of sausages and the morning newspaper. Neeley leaped up, agog, and fell upon Jacob in an exuberant greeting.
He hadn’t seen Neeley since he’d last debated spiritedly with him and George Sylvaine in a coffee house near university.
“It’s bloody good to be home.” Jacob extricated himself from his friend’s affectionate patting. “I’ll tell you all about it after I have a quick look at the betting book. Tell the waiter to bring me what you’re having, will you?”
The betting book was always a reliable source of entertainment, and often more eloquent thanThe Timeswhen it came to capturing the flavor of current events. The pages were occasionally smudged by brandy or fingerprints.
He was amused and pleased to find himself in it almost immediately.
Lord Carlyle wagers F. McGinty ten pounds that Jacob Eversea was swallowed by a sea serpent
“Ha ha! Sea serpent! Wait until you hear about the pirates!” He called over his shoulder to Neeley.
C. Monkton wagers R. Sedgewick five guineas that Mr. Isaiah Redmond will wed Fanchette Tarbell before the end of the year
A hefty sum, but probably a safe wager, Jacob thought dryly. Redmond always did what was expected of him, and Jacob knew he’d been courting Miss Tarbell, because it’s precisely what a Redmond would do. He turned the page.
