Page 39 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
“And if he does, you can go back to the Gibsons.”
“And then Mr.Gibson will sack me.The truth is, we all worried something terrible had happened to you somewhere on that road, you and the maid.Until I saw your shawl and knew you were on your way to London.”
The shawl.Jenny had been so right.Thank God the girl had been bold enough to speak up.
“Is the maid—”
“With me?Yes.I’m sorry to have caused you worry.”She signaled the coachman and they pulled away.With the state of the traffic, Ewan would have no trouble following her.She must send a warning to Jenny, Mr.Lewis, and his wife to not answer the door.
A few minutes earlier…
Shaldon lingereda moment on the sidewalk getting his bearings.He knew the residence Lady Jane had slipped into.It was, in fact, his afternoon destination.And what the devil was she doing visiting a single young man here?
Jealousy pricked at him, but he shook it off.He knew of women Jane’s age and older who took a favorite footman or other young buck to bed.Jane wouldn’t.
Would she?There was passion in the lady, bottled up for years.Would she go after Penderbrook?
The boy passed himself off as an orphan, raised in the care of a country vicar he called uncle.He might well be a wealthy man’s by-blow well-concealed, but he doubted his son Charles would have stayed friends with the boy if he was hiring himself out to older ladies as some sort ofcicisbeo.
And if not that, what would he have to do with Lady Jane?
A servant rushed out of the door and down the street, just as Ewan appeared.
“I stayed back, my lord,” Ewan said.“She didn’t see me.And you might need me.”
He sighed.“Disobedient, but in this case your instincts might be correct.Wait here.If she appears without me, follow her.”
He crept up the staircase.Most of the rooms were quiet, but muffled voices from an upper story were a beacon.The walls and doors of this narrow home were thin.
When he reached Penderbrook’s door he paused and pressed an ear to the panel.
“My lady, let me escort you home.You are distressed, and—”
“Penderbrook.Quentin.I am your mother.”
Shaldon’s breath caught as it almost never did, his mind careening in dizzying calculations.Was it possible?Penderbrook was…younger than Charles, yes, but Lady Jane was still not yet forty.
But she’d gone off to Ireland after her cousin inherited, and her grief might not have been the only reason for the journey.
He’d been too busy to pay attention.
Blast it all to hell, he hadn’t wanted to think about Jane then.Thoughts of her and her brother always came with a hefty dose of guilt, a useless emotion, one he didn’t indulge in if he could help it.
And guilty he was, and how she must hate him.
“I am aware of your gambling debt.”
A worrisome pause ensued.Might she need his assistance?Penderbrook was a gentleman, but young men did not like to have their faults scrutinized, especially by women.
“Perhaps you should sit, dear boy,” she said.
“My lady, you should leave now.”
Shaldon put his hand on the latch.
“I want you to know, I mean to continue to help you.”
The voices grew louder.He stepped back from the door.
