Page 41 of An Engagement with the Enemy

Tom Westcote’s return to his family’s home was a most welcome distraction. Jessica gave her full attention to her younger brother, pushing all thoughts of her agreement with James to the darkest corners of her mind. She hoped they would collect enough cobwebs in a week’s time that she’d forget the way her heart had pounded when she and James had come so perilously close to—to something she wasn’t willing to think about.

No, she would heap all her focus on her brother.

For as long as she could remember, Jessica had adored Tom. She’d devoted hours to his entertainment when he’d yet been in the nursery. When he stepped out of the carriage that brought him home, she didn’t wait for him to come toward her where she stood beside their father. Instead, she nearly leaped into his arms to give him a welcome embrace.

At eighteen, Tom had matched her in height. Now, three years older, he was finally taller than her by several inches. So when he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the ground with a laugh, the moment was quite bittersweet. He wasn’t little anymore.

“I missed you, too,” he said gruffly into her ear. “But you’re going to make me look quite soft-hearted.” He put her back down on her feet and grinned at her. “You know lawyers cannot be seen to have soft hearts, Jess.”

She scoffed and wiped at her eyes with one hand. “You may pretend all you want when you are away from home, but I know you best. You would rather rescue kittens than prepare court arguments.”

“That’s a pretty picture to paint,” a deeper voice said from behind her brother. “Westcote, is this the sister you’ve been telling me about?”

Tom’s quick grin ought to have reassured her, but Jessica stiffened. She’d forgotten in her haste to welcome her brother that he had a guest with him. A colleague he’d written about only briefly.

“Father. Jessica. I would like to introduce Mr. Christopher Holly. Only last week, he received his certificate of fitness from the King’s Bench, and he is now a fully-fledged solicitor.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holly,” her father said to the newcomer with a bow. “And congratulations for your achievement.”

“Thank you for having me as a guest in your home, Mr. Westcote. And it is a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Westcote. Your brother speaks of you often.”

“Welcome to our home, sir.” Jessica made her curtsey as she took in Mr. Holly’s neatly tailored attire, the sharp lines of his coat accentuating a trim physique. His meticulously brushed hair, dark and waving, framed a face of strong, refined features. But it was his eyes, deep-set and intense, that hinted at his character. They were the eyes of a man of intellect, a scholar of laws and letters, and they held an undeniable seriousness to them.

They were quite unlike James’s brown eyes, dark but full of mischief. James’s lips sometimes twitched as if on the verge of a laugh. She much preferred James’s open amusement to this stranger’s rather stoic appearance. Although why she compared the newcomer to James, she couldn’t say.

“Come inside, son. Bring your guest.” Her father held his elbow out and Jessica took it. “You both must be tired from your journey.”

“Dusty, perhaps, but not tired,” Tom said with a laugh. “And relieved to get out of that carriage. Aren’t we, Holly?”

Mr. Holly responded with an even, wry tone. “A seat that doesn’t bounce along with a horse’s gait would be most welcome.”

Tom’s friend was likely nearer to her age than her brother’s, if not a little older, given the number of years he’d had to spend in apprenticeship and clerkship to become a solicitor. Tom’s letters had outlined the arduous requirements to pursue that profession to Jessica, and the details came back to her as she entered the house.

“Would you prefer to rest and have refreshment in your rooms, or would you like to take tea with us now?” Her father turned to look over his shoulder. “Either is acceptable, so please do not trouble yourself, Mr. Holly, in doing what suits you best.”

“Would a walk in your garden be acceptable prior to refreshment? I think a stretch of the legs is what I need to feel more myself, at least at present.”

“Of course.”

“Jessica, will you show him the gardens?” Tom asked, sounding far too chipper. “I’d rather have a coffee than take another step.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she answered in the way they expected, as was polite for the lady of the house. Though she’d counted on Tom as a potential ally in her attempt to stay unattached, it seemed he’d joined their father in trying to marry her off. There was nothing subtle about his push for her to spend a quarter of an hour in company with his friend. “Mr. Holly, this way, if you please.”

Her father released her arm, and Mr. Holly stepped forward to offer his. He wasn’t so tall as the men in her family, but he still had an inch or two more than she did. And his broad shoulders made her feel quite delicate by comparison. At least that was a welcome change from some of the other men of her acquaintance.

Even if he wasn’t quite so tall as James. Who she really must stop thinking about.

“Are you certain you do not mind?” he asked, voice lowered, as they went through to a sitting room with broad doors leading out to a terrace, with steps that would take them down to their modest garden of fountain and flowers. “I am happy to take my walk alone, Miss Westcote.”

How thoughtful of him, to not insist upon her attention. Unlike someone else she could name—but wouldn’t.

Jessica kept her gaze forward and her smile the picture of contentment. “It is my pleasure to keep you company, Mr. Holly. It is the kindest thing I can do after you were forced to spend so many hours closed up in a carriage with my brother.”

“Though I enjoyed his company, I will admit that yours is more pleasant.” He spoke without affectation, as though his words were simple truth rather than an attempt at flirtation. “I haven’t been away from London in months. When your brother invited me to the country, I didn’t hesitate to accept. It’s beautiful here.” He waved before him, the gesture encompassing the green hills and trees beyond the garden.

“I am certain the countryside wears on people just as Town does, after a time. Perhaps you will wish to return to the busy streets of London before long.” She couldn’t even picture what they must be like, full of people and carriages, all scurrying about and trying to move from one busy activity to another. “I have heard it said that the quiet of the country is dull to those used to the city.”

Though her closest friends had never said such a thing. Catherine always seemed relieved to return to the castle after spending time in London. James, too. He was happy to return to his library, his books, the familiar. Neither of them had ever made her feel as though she were missing out on something.