subsided somewhat. How long was it since he had made love? Too damn long. The treacherous member stirred hopefully and he snarled at it as though it were an uncontrollable wild animal, not part of his own body.
Common decency insisted that he stop thinking about Jessica like that. All it would take was a little self-control. And that, of course, he had in abundance. Of course.
* * *
Jessica was sitting eating a particularly succulent slice of ham when Gareth finally arrived at Half Moon Street for his breakfast. She had risen early, having succumbed to the first clear, sharp morning for days and taken a brisk walk around Green Park with a footman trailing with reasonably well disguised resentment at her heels.
Now she was eating with an appetite, contemplating her surprising new life with some pleasure. The shock of her adventure had subsided, she was amused and stimulated by her lessons in flirtation. Maude was proving a true friend, if a worrying one. Her nerve-racking imposture had not yet begun and Jessica realised she felt as though she were on holiday.
‘Good morning,’ she said, observing that Gareth flinched at the brightness of her greeting. In fact, now she looked more closely, he appeared to have spent a night of either severe insomnia or indulgent dissipation. Or possibly both. ‘Would you like to sit down and I will fetch you some breakfast?’ He appeared to drag his gaze to her face with an effort. ‘You seem a little tired.’
‘Yes. Yes, I am. Tired.’ His eyes roamed over the buffet, then back to the table. ‘I will have coffee, thank you. Nothing more.’
She lifted the silver pot and poured, adding a dash of milk and no sugar, just as he liked it. ‘Would you like some toast?’
‘No. Thank you.’ Gareth took the cup and sat opposite her. ‘There is no call for you to wait upon me.’
It was not said with a smile. Jessica felt the sick knot of embarrassment tighten in her stomach and knew she was colouring up. She had presumed upon her position, one of the unforgivable sins for a governess. She was treating this breakfast table as though she was truly mistress of the household and not an amateur actress incompetently learning to play a part. And she had summoned Gareth to come to breakfast without a second thought. There were doubtless all kinds of ways in which she had offended and now Gareth—Lord Standon—was displeased.
‘I beg your pardon, my lord.’ She folded her hands in her lap, dropped her eyes to her plate and wondered how soon she might slip from the room.
‘What the devil?’ He grounded his cup with enough force to crack porcelain. Jessica winced. Causing him to shatter Bel’s Spode morning service would simply be the last straw. ‘What are you apologising for? I’m the one behaving like a bear with a sore head.’
‘I was presuming too much upon my position, my lord. I should not have asked you—’
‘Your position? Your position is the mistress of this house and as a lady—and the only one in residence—I would hope you would feel free to take charge of any meal in it and order the servants as you see fit. And what is this my lord nonsense?’
‘I thought you were offended by my presumption. And asking you to call was indiscreet.’ He smiled and the knot unravelled itself and she unclasped her hands. It was all right. And in any case, she had to get used to being liberated from the restricted position she had disciplined herself to accept in the past. She had a personality, opinions—and she could give herself permission to exercise both
‘It was a touch unconventional, perhaps, but I came in through the mews and the back garden.’
‘You are not usually so…tense,’ she ventured. ‘Or at least, not in my short acquaintance with you.’
‘I am usually too lazy to be tense, is that what you mean?’ His smile was wry. ‘Indolent, perhaps? Normally I see little merit in losing one’s temper or becoming fraught over problems. A little thought, a little calm planning and most things resolve themselves. At the risk of labouring the point, Jessica, I am angry with myself because I have miscalculated over something, not with you.’
‘And that cost you a night’s sleep?’ she asked sympathetically, nudging the plate of toast and the butter in his direction and controlling the quirk of her lips as he reached out and took them. She risked pushing the ham across as well, then topped up both their coffee cups.
‘It did. That and a…friend of mine who has a mind of his own and appears set upon directing mine along quite the wrong paths.’ Gareth cut into the ham and bit into his toast with a fierceness that made her glad she was not the object of his displeasure.
‘A close friend?’
‘Very. A lifelong one, you might say. We are attached.’ He shifted in his chair and silence fell. Jessica tactfully busied herself with buttering toast and mentally reviewing how she was going to tell him about Maude’s sudden fascination with the completely ineligible Mr Hurst.
‘Why are you still dressing like that?’ Gareth demanded, making her jump. ‘Have your new clothes not arrived?’
They had, a collection beyond her wildest dreams, gowns for every occasion. Bel and Eva might have assured her they were entirely appropriate for her apparent station in life and were not at all extravagant in comparison with others she would see, but to her they were simply luxury made manifest.
‘Yes. They are all in my room.’
‘Then why do you continue to dress like a governess? And your hair—you are doing your very best to turn a dashing crop into a prim nothing. You dress like a governess; no wonder you feel you should behave like one.’
‘I am one, and I am not ashamed of it. No, please listen.’ He closed his mouth again as she held up a hand. ‘The masquerade has not yet begun. When it does, you will meet Mrs Carleton, for the first time, in public. You cannot risk showing you are familiar with her—I must be as much of a shock to you as possible.’
She had thought it all through as she had twisted her elegant new ringlets into stiff braids, and she knew she was right. And she also knew that she wanted to flaunt herself for him alone in her new satins and laces and watch his face, see the hot, wicked darkness come in to his eyes again as it had when he had kissed her. And that was dangerous madness, even if all it meant was that she needed approval and reassurance.
‘Very well.’ He sipped his coffee, then added, ‘I will send round the jewellery.’
‘Oh, thank you. My scent is being made up; I enjoyed that very much, although I did not have much to do—Mr Todmorton simply inhaled the air about two inches above my wrist and pronounced!’
‘You mean to say you did not ransack his shop?’ His mood seemed improved now, perhaps he was simply one of those men who needed several cups of coffee in the morning. Jessica nudged the jam across and rang for more toast.
‘I did not. Maude did. Um…’
‘Um?’
‘While we were there, a gentleman came in.’
‘You were veiled?’
‘Oh, yes, there is no risk he could recognise me again. No, it is Maude. I am sure I should not tell you this, but I fear I have absolutely no influence with her and—’
‘Who
