Page 51

“Tatiana, are you all right?” Jane asked gently, setting the coffee pot down with careful precision.

“I came to tell you I am sorry.”

Jane tilted her head, dismayed. “Whatever are you sorry for?”

“I am sorry that Papa is courting Mrs. Gordon.”

The words struck like a blow, a sharp and unexpected pang that tightened Jane’s throat. It was true, then. Barclay had reached a decision regarding her. She had told herself it was merely his grief that held him back, that he simply needed time to make peace with the idea of a future. But it would seem he had decided she was not the right woman for him.

Jane’s hands trembled as she poured her coffee, the liquid swirling into the cup with a soft, delicate splash. She took a steadying breath, forcing her voice to remain calm. “I did tell you that your papa had to find his own wife. He is a good man, and whatever he decides, I am certain that you are an important part of his decision.”

Tatiana’s face crumpled with sorrow as she continued to study her slippers, her little hands twisting in her lap. “It is not right. I do not like that woman. I like you.”

Jane’s heart squeezed painfully at the girl’s sincerity. She reached across the table to take Tatiana’s hand, her fingers warm and soft in her own. “Oh, sweet girl. I like you, too. Whatever happens in the future, we shall remain friends.”

Tatiana turned her gaze to Jane, her deep blue eyes brimming with emotion that was far too raw for someone so young. “The afternoon at the grotto, I thought …” She shook her head, her little face twisting with the effort of holding back tears. “I was so … sure.”

Jane fought back her own tears, determined to be strong for the little girl who had known far too much pain in her short life. Her smile trembled but held firm. “Every moment with you has been a gift. I am certain that everything will work out for the best for you. Your papa loves you—” She paused, swallowing hard to steady her voice before continuing, “—and he will do what is best for you. I know it. Please do not worry about me. You should put your attention on getting to know Mrs. Gordon if Bar—your papa is courting her.”

Tatiana’s eyes searched Jane’s face, her expression earnest and unguarded. “Would you have courted him? If he had asked?”

Jane bit her lip, her mind racing to find the right words that would neither betray her own emotions nor sound critical of Barclay’s choice. At last, she replied gently, “It would be a great honor to be considered for the position of your new mother. I considered it a great honor the first time you asked me, and nothing will ever change how I feel about you.”

Tatiana’s eyes grew wide and bright with emotion before she flung herself off the chair and into Jane’s arms. Jane barely had time to set her cup down before she caught the little girl, Tatiana’s small arms wrapping tightly around her neck. Jane’s heart clenched with tenderness as she hugged the child back, squeezing her to her bosom and breathing in the sweet scent of lavender and innocence. She held her there for a long moment, allowing herself to imagine what it might be like to truly be Tatiana’s mother, if only for this brief, stolen instant.

“We are part of the same family now, Tatiana. We shall see each other often, and I can read you Aladdin anytime you like.” Jane’s voice was soft with the promise, but then she hesitated, wincing slightly over the girl’s shoulder. Had she overstepped? Would Barclay disapprove of her making such an offer? She swallowed and quickly amended, “Although I am sure that Mrs. Gordon has read stories to her husband’s parish and will make a fine storyteller in my place.”

Tatiana pulled back, her little face full of sincerity as she looked up into Jane’s eyes. “Thank you, Jane.”

“You are, and always will be, very welcome, Tatiana.” Jane stroked the girl’s hair, her heart aching with love and loss all at once.

After their embrace, Tatiana dashed off before Jane could even suggest a game of chess. She watched the girl go, feeling slightly cheered to know that, at the very least, Tatiana did not reject her. The child’s acceptance, small though it was, soothed the edges of her wounded pride and heartache.

Realizing she had not yet eaten, Jane went to find some food to break her fast. To her own surprise, her appetite had returned. Perhaps the child’s acceptance had been enough to ease her melancholy.

Entering the breakfast room reserved for the Balfour family, she found Aurora seated at the table, reading over a plate of eggs and fruit. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, casting soft rays upon the polished mahogany and silver platters that adorned the sideboard. Jane quietly filled her own plate, selecting fruit and a delicate slice of toast before seating herself across from Barclay’s mother.

“How are you this morning, Aurora?”

Aurora looked up from her reading, her smile warm and inviting. “I am quite enjoying this visit. It has been a long time since Barclay has taken any time for himself. He appears happier since we arrived, and I must admit that, as a mother, it gladdens my heart to see my boy smiling again.”

Jane paused, her fork suspended in midair as she absorbed this unexpected news. “I am … happy to hear that. He seems a good man.”

Aurora’s eyes softened with motherly pride, her expression serene and wistful. “The very best of men.”

Yearning pierced Jane's chest like a dagger. She struggled to control her breathing as she looked away. “Indeed,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. Her appetite deserted her once more, leaving her with only a hollow ache that no amount of fine breakfast fare could fill. Perhaps she was nothing more than a silly young chit who did not yet understand enough about life to make a suitable wife for a man like him. Barclay seemed to think that the widow was a far more qualified choice, and he was an intelligent, professional man. Certainly, he must have insight into matters such as marriage. Who was she to think she knew better?

With a sigh of resignation, Jane pushed her plate aside and rose to fetch a pot of coffee from the sideboard. The silver gleamed in the morning light, polished to perfection, and the rich aroma of the brew teased her senses with the promise of comfort. Returning to her seat, Jane poured a cup with unrestrained relish. She added cream and a spoonful of sugar, stirring slowly as she watched the swirl of white soften the dark liquid.

Food be damned today. She would drink coffee until Barclay faded from her thoughts. It was the only thing that seemed to lift her spirits these days, and she cradled the cup in both hands as if it were a lifeline.

Jane raised the cup to her lips, taking a fortifying sip, but as she glanced across the table, she noticed Aurora’s eyes fixed upon the cup, her expression pinched with concern.

Blazes. Was the woman going to judge her for drinking the gentlemen’s beverage? Jane steeled herself, already bracing for a lecture on decorum, reluctant to complete her list of inadequacies for the day.

“Jane, I know it is not my place …” Aurora’s voice was gentle, her eyes scanning the room to confirm that there were no footmen lingering nearby.

Here it comes. Jane forced a smile, keeping her fingers steady around the delicate handle of the cup.